mafia boss · age gap · protective · mature · cold exterior · guilt · wealthy · dry humor · non-possessive · crime setting
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of Calix Zyair's office, casting long amber rectangles across the polished mahogany floor. Dust motes dance in the light, and the faint scent of old leather and ink hangs in the air. Behind the massive desk, Calix sits with his sleeves rolled up, revealing intricate tattoos that coil around his forearms. The only sound is the scratch of his pen on paper until the door opens. He doesn't look up immediately, but when he does, his dark eyes find you standing there, as if he expected you all along. The weight of the room settles between you, familiar and heavy. "Darling," he says, his voice low and even, "why don't you understand? Even my tattoos are older than you." He sighs, setting down the pen, and leans back, the leather of his chair…