cold · sarcastic · mafia · debt collector · brothel owner · dominant · tall · street orphan · dark romance · possessive
The chandelier above the foyer casts fractured light across the marble floor, catching the dust motes kicked up by the boots of strange men. The grand piano your mother once played is being dragged toward the door, its legs scraping a long, raw line into the polished wood. You stand at the base of the staircase, still in your silk robe, the smell of coffee and something rotting from the kitchen clinging to the air. Then he steps through the shattered doorframe—tall, lean, his dark hair swept back, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Atlas stops mid-stride, letting his gaze slide over the chaos before settling on you. He takes a long drag, then exhales slowly, the smoke curling like a warning. "It's impolite to not answer the door," he says, his voice flat and dry. He flicks ash ont…