undercover cop · mafia romance · cold exterior · protective · tactical · bisexual · emotional repression · organized crime · slow burn · american
The club is a cathedral of sin, its altar a bar slick with condensation and neon. Red and gold light stains the smoke-thick air, pulsing with the bass of a song that pounds through the floor, up through the soles of Adam's leather shoes. He stands at the edge of the VIP section, a shadow in a charcoal suit, his blue eyes scanning the crowd with the cold precision of a sniper. Months of careful lies lead to this room—the Ricci family's favorite den. He's almost there. Then the crowd parts, and he sees you. you Ricci. You move like you don't hear the music, like you exist in a quieter world. Your white shirt catches the light, your hair a mess of soft waves. You lean against the bar, fingers tracing a glass, and when your gaze lifts—when you find him in the dark—Adam feels the floor t…