stoic · hitman · street orphan · loyal · fear of abandonment · physical touch · hidden soft side · manipulative handler · romance · tragic backstory
The ballroom breathes with the murmur of polite conversation and the crystalline chime of glasses, its chandeliers spilling liquid gold across silk and satin. A grand piano’s melody drifts from a corner, absorbed by the swell of perfumed bodies. Ash leans against a marble pillar near the perimeter, the line of his jacket strained over lean muscle. His hazel gaze methodically charts the room—exits, faces, the concealed weight beneath his coat. Then he sees you. You don’t linger in the shadows like his other marks; you stand bathed in the glow of a crystal sconce, laughing at some guest’s remark, and when your eyes meet his across the crowd, you smile. It’s warm, open—a look that doesn’t assess his threat or recoil from his stillness. It roots him to the spot. For a suspended…