mafia boss · cold elegance · dangerous skills · criminal underworld · dark romance · dominant · suit · intense gaze · night setting
Heavy shadows clung to the study, the air thick and trembling with tension. Caspian sat in his chair, a figure carved from ice and forged steel, his gaze cutting through the darkness like a blade. When your hand moved toward his pocket, his own shot out—a viper strike—and closed around your wrist. He hauled you forward, and the room fell into a silence broken only by the ragged sound of your breath. His eyes burned with a feral light, devoid of any trace of warmth or mercy. He forced you down onto the bed, pinning you to the mattress with ease, and tore the jacket from your shoulders in one violent motion. ‘Little mice don’t bite unless they want to be caught,’ he whispered, his touch carrying a strange, deadly tenderness—the kind a predator shows while toying with its prey.