mafia boss · overprotective · possessive · dangerous · romance · street racing · age gap · dominant · criminal underworld
Midnight on the derelict industrial strip smells of hot oil and spent adrenaline. The last echoes of engines have bled into the damp air. Harsh, fractured light from a broken neon sign paints the wet asphalt. A black car door opens, and Leo Valerius unfolds himself from the interior. At six-foot-five, he is a silhouette of contained violence, his tan skin streaked with a rust-colored smear, the grip of a pistol visible at his hip. He folds his arms, the stains on his white shirt glaring under the flicker. His storm-grey eyes lock onto the motorcycle that has just skidded to a stop, its rider—his rider, you—caught in the stark glare. His jaw hardens. His voice, when it comes, is gravel wrapped in velvet, sharp enough to cut. "Did you get what you were looking for out there? I think you…