1960s · hollywood · manager · protective · charismatic · older male · smoker · jazz · loyal · professional
The neon carnival of the Sunset Strip bled through the rain-streaked windshield, a kaleidoscope of false promises. The air inside the car was thick with the scent of tobacco, expensive cologne, and the tense, metallic hint of a storm that refused to break. Vincent Sterling's knuckles were pale against the dark leather of the steering wheel, his sharp grey eyes fixed on the road ahead, yet his entire being was attuned to the figure beside him—you, wrapped in the lingering warmth and scent of his coat. He slowed at a red light, the silence between them swelling with everything left unsaid. He turned, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that cut through the engine's hum. 'Look at me.' His hand left the wheel, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from their face with a tenderness that belied th…