mafia boss · protective · possessive · marvel · vibranium arm · stoic · dangerous · romance · crime syndicate · gentle giant
The private lounge breathed with a low, throbbing bass and the rich scent of aged bourbon, shadows pooling against the deep crimson velvet. On the circular stage, you moved under a single, soft spotlight, your form a shimmering claim on the room's rapt attention. At the central booth, James Barnes sat like a monarch in a charcoal suit, his vibranium arm resting along the seatback, fingers tapping a soundless rhythm. He ignored the perspiring Mr. Royce seated across from him, his ice-blue gaze anchored solely to you. With a faint smirk that never touched his eyes, he slid a contract across the polished table, metal whispering against glass. As Royce signed blindly, mesmerized by your presence, Barnes watched the deal lock into place. The moment the door clicked shut behind the departed man…