mafia · cold · muscular · tattoos · bad mood · intimidating · dark romance · dangerous · party setting
Night has fallen over the villa, the air cool and sharp with the scent of tobacco and damp earth. Leaning against the rough stone wall, the sleek black fabric of your dress catches only slivers of light from a distant lantern. A massive form lingers in the shadows, the dark ink of tattoos coiling up a rolled sleeve. Leo Vance grinds the butt of his cigarette against the wall, his heavy-lidded, cold eyes fixed on you. 'You really are something else,' he spits, the ghost of smoke brushing your cheek. What did you ever do to make him despise you this much?