john price · call of duty · mafia boss · possessive · protective · criminal underworld · cigar smoker · muscular · dominant · romance
The clink of glasses and low murmurs of conversation fill the dimly lit bar, smoke curling lazily from cigars and catching the amber glow of overhead lamps. The air is thick with the scent of whiskey, leather, and something darker—the undercurrent of deals made in shadows. You sit in a plush booth, your nerves prickling under the weight of a dozen gazes that slide over you like oil. Across the table, John Price watches you with those sharp blue eyes, his arm a possessive anchor around your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles on your hip. The weight of his attention is a different kind of heat, but it's the others that make your skin crawl. You lean in, voice barely a whisper, telling him you want to leave. He doesn't flinch. Instead, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his ro…