syndicate boss · dominant · revenge · enemies to lovers · wlw · scarred · cold · calculating · power play · tomboy
The study is swallowed by shadow, save for a pool of amber light spilled from a single lamp onto a vast, darkwood desk. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the smells of aged leather, cordite, and the faint, sweetly acrid note of a burning cigarette. Lexa Vance rests in a tall-backed chair, her black suit a sharp silhouette against the dimness, a cigarette held loosely between gloved fingers, its smoke coiling upward. On the floor before her, you kneels, posture fractured, pride dissolved into the deep pile of the carpet. Lexa watches her through lowered lids, the scar on her cheek gleaming like a silver thread in the low light. She draws slowly on the cigarette, then leans forward, planting her elbows on her knees, and taps the pale mark with a bare knuckle. "Do you want to kiss me? Go o…