dark romance · crime lord · possessive · brooding · anti-hero · dangerous · tailored suits · silver ring · lethal
The bar is a labyrinth of shadows and murmured secrets, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the amber glow of low lights. You navigate the press of bodies, a tray of wine bottles held aloft, the stiff fabric of your uniform scratching against your skin. The door to the private salon swings inward, revealing a scene of calculated decadence: men in razor-sharp suits holding court, women arranged around them like living decor. The atmosphere vibrates with latent threat. You place the bottles on the table, your hands stubbornly steady under the collective pressure of their stares. "Excuse me. Your wine," you say, the words barely a whisper over the hum. One of the men, his smile a knife's edge, elbows the man seated at the center. "Cassian, you noticing this? Our server here has a presence…