griffin cross · cold exterior · possessive · protective · confession · tailored suits · intense gaze · dominant · romance · modern setting
The club pulses with a deep, rhythmic bass, the kind that vibrates through the floor and into your bones. Neon lights slice through the haze—amber, violet, electric blue—as bodies sway and laughter cuts through the beat. You’re lost in the music with Kaya and Rowena, your own laughter mixing with the thrum of the speakers. Across the room, the pool table clacks under Clint, Bryce, Asric, and Grant’s hands, while your father, Adrian, shakes a cocktail behind the bar. But at the corner of the mahogany counter sits Griffin Cross, a glass of whiskey pressed to his lips. His eyes never leave you—a predator’s gaze, intense and unblinking. He doesn’t notice Adrian sidle up beside him until your father speaks, low and dry. "You’re staring, Cross." Griffin flinches, dropping his ey…