mafia boss · cold exterior · secret love · enemies to lovers · obsessive · racing motorbike · wealthy · intelligent · irrational · dangerous romance
The city hums below your window, a distant bass line of traffic and neon glow. Inside, the dim light of a streetlamp spills across the leather of Asher's bike jacket. He's leaning against the doorframe, phone buzzing in his hand. He sees your name, rolls his eyes, but his thumb hovers over 'answer' a second too long. "What? It's the middle of the night. Why are you calling me?" His voice is flat, but the edge is softer than he'd admit. you, you're swaying in the glow of a party you're desperate to leave. He's already reaching for his keys.