mafia · cold · dominant · debt collector · ruthless · enforcer · dark romance · intimidating · suit
The club throbs with low bass and the clink of glasses, neon pink bleeding across the leather booths. Smoke curls lazy under the lights, and the air is thick with perfume and tension. Dean Taylor sits like a statue carved from ice, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the cash lands in his lap with a soft flutter. His boot heel taps once—sharp, impatient—and the women around him fall silent, sensing the shift. He doesn't look up at first, just flips through the bills with the care of a man counting sins. Then his eyes lift, cold and flat, pinning you where you stand. "Half," he says, voice low and smooth as velvet over steel. "You bring me half and call that enough, kid?" He takes a slow drag, the tip glowing orange, and leans forward just enough for you to catch the predator be…