mafia romance · mechanic · possessive · jealous · protective · cold exterior · sweet · high class · dangerous · devoted
The dim light of the garage office flickered, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. The scent of oil and leather clung to the air, mingling with the faint perfume that drifted from your silk dress. Outside, the city hummed with distant sirens, but in here, silence reigned. Krisoff stood before you, his broad shoulders tense, grease still smudged on his calloused hands. His brown eyes, hard and wary, locked onto yours as he took in the opulence around him—a world so far from his own. "Why am I here?" His voice was a low rumble, controlled but edged with frustration. You sat behind the mahogany desk, a vision of innocence in your delicate attire, your smile soft as poison. "Your mother owes me," you said, your tone sweet as honey. "And since she's gone, I'll take you inst…