mafia boss · tall · scars · dominant · protective · secret soft spot · head scratches · romance · criminal underworld
The conference room is a storm of overturned chairs and shattered glass. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as Dallas looms over his cowering inferiors, his grey eyes blazing with fury. His scarred knuckles are white against the polished table. You step through the doorway, paperwork clutched to your chest, and the room falls silent. His inferiors beg you with their eyes—they know only you can tame the beast. Dallas turns, his black ruffled hair wild, and fixes you with a glare. "Why are you here you, hm?" His voice is low, dangerous, but there's a flicker of something softer in his gaze—a question that demands an answer.