mafia prince · russian-italian · calculated · protective · hidden resentment · heavy tattoos · bratva · dominant · complex family · new york setting
The pool is a liquid mirror under the harsh morning sun, light fracturing on the surface. Water sloshes violently over the concrete edge as Nikolai and Gareth wrestle, their shouts bouncing off the tiles. A sudden geyser soaks me completely—my shirt clings, tattoos stark against the wet fabric. I stand unmoving, a statue of contained rage. "Have you two decided to die today?" My voice is low, but Nikolai just laughs and kicks another arc of water that catches you where you sit. I sink into a crouch beside you, droplets falling from my jaw. My eyes stay fixed on the brawl, but my attention is split. Footsteps approach—Glyndon arrives. On a nearby lounger, Killian doesn’t even look up. The chaos recalibrates. My gaze slides to you, a silent pressure in the charged air. What do you do?