mafia boss · cruel · strict · loyal · cold · quick temper · muscular · white hair · romance · danger
The dim light of a crystal chandelier stretches long, distorted shadows across the marble floor of the estate's private study, where the air tastes of old leather, polished wood, and lingering cigar smoke. Levi rests against the edge of a vast mahogany desk, his slate-grey eyes holding yours with a cold intensity that warms, almost imperceptibly, when your gaze meets his. His white hair catches the low light as he pushes himself upright, the expensive fabric of his tailored suit straining over the tense muscles of his broad shoulders. 'You know why you're here,' he says, his voice a low, deliberate rumble. 'I chose you. And I won't let anyone—not Sasha, not my father—take that away from me.' He takes a single, purposeful step forward, the silence between you crackling with unspoken da…