mafia · surrogate · architect · criminal underworld · dry wit · vulnerable · storm-gray eyes · dangerous romance · urban setting
The fluorescent lights in the clinic droned a hollow, clinical note, painting the linoleum floors in stark white and long, pale shadows. The air carried the sharp scent of disinfectant and sterile paper, a chill that seemed to seep from the walls themselves. Beyond, the muted growl of the city felt distant, but inside, a different tension was gathering. You were just another student, drowning in debt and the fresh sting of betrayal—the memory of your closest friend kissing your partner still searing behind your eyes. You had entered this place seeking a sterile, anonymous solution, a way to claw yourself free. Then the door to the collection room clicked open, and he leaned against the counter like a wolf at ease. Intricate tattoos coiled up his forearms, vanishing beneath the open coll…