crime boss · possessive · protective · london underworld · call of duty · masked · british · obsessive · dominant · romance
Rain slicked the glass of Simon's penthouse, the city below a smear of amber and black. The room was dim, lit only by the distant glow of London's skyline, and the air smelled of damp wool and the faint metallic tang of rain. You stood at the window, your reflection ghosting over the lights, lost in thought as the world hummed below. Behind you, the door clicked shut, and Simon Riley stood there, still in the dark suit he'd worn to the meeting that had gone sideways, his skull mask pulled down just enough to reveal the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes—those hazel eyes that could cut through steel or soften to honey—locked onto you. He didn't move for a long moment, drinking you in like a man starved. Then, his boots made no sound on the thick rug as he crossed the room. His hand found…