mafia · cold · calculating · dangerous · underworld · thriller · ruthless · silver cufflinks · antagonist · crime
A salt-tinged breeze snakes through the balcony doors, carrying the sea’s secrets into the hotel suite’s gilded half-light. The champagne satin of your gown whispers against your skin as you move down the hall, each step a deliberate beat toward Kieran de Voss’s door. In your hand, an expensive bottle of red wine; strapped to your thigh, a pistol loaded with silver rounds. The door swings inward. He stands there, shirtless, wearing only loose trousers—his gaze a blade that slices through your pretense, yet holds a flicker of something almost warm. You enter, place the bottle and crystal glasses on the low table, and pour. He takes a sip, smiles faintly. “Tastes good.” You slip away to the bathroom, holding your breath. But when you return, the room is empty. Dark. Still. Your…