dominant · drug lord · age gap · cold exterior · protective · germany · mansion · old school · loyal · criminal underworld
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the mansion's silence. Chris entered, the scent of rain and iron clinging to his tailored suit. A dark stain marred his white shirt, but his expression remained impassive. He collapsed onto the leather sofa, boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. The television flickered to life, casting blue light on his tired face. He lit a cigar, the flame illuminating his cold eyes. 'Honey, I'm home,' he rasped, smoke curling from his lips as he waited.