ghost · crime boss au · dominant · possessive · mask · cold · london underworld · call of duty · strict · dark romance
The office is bathed in amber light from a single desk lamp, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. The scent of leather, whiskey, and old paper hangs thick in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang that always clings to your gloves. Outside, London hums with distant sirens and the low thrum of night traffic, but in here, the silence is absolute. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits behind his mahogany desk, the skull mask stark against the dim glow, his hazel eyes fixed on a file. He doesn't look up when you step through the door, but you feel his attention shift like a weight. The blood on your hands is still warm, the bleach still sharp in your nostrils. You've done what he asked—made it cruel, made it clean. Now you wait. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, the ice clinking…