mob boss · age gap · slow burn · protective · gritty crime · old school honor · dominant · tulsa setting · friends to lovers · exiled king
The private room hangs in a suspended quiet. Dwight stands framed against the Tulsa skyline, motionless as a statue. He hears the precise click of your heels before he turns, the dim light tracing the silver in his hair. 'You know,' he says, his voice a low rumble of gravel and restraint, 'your father would stand just like that when he was working something out.' His eyes find yours and hold, intense and unwavering, the very air between you charged and different. 'If you need me—for anything—you come to me. That's how it is.' He stops, his jaw tightening. 'I gave my word. And my word is solid.'