syndicate boss · valerian heritage · cold demeanor · protective father · scarred face · ruthless · crass humor · romance · authority figure · complex backstory
The hushed sterility of the waiting room ruptures as the heavy door swings inward, admitting a draft of cold air and an undeniable presence. Lorenzo Valenti strides in, a tall, formidable shape in a suit tailored to perfection. His slicked-back hair and the pale scar marring his cheek signal danger. He ignores the receptionist’s wary glance, his dark eyes locking onto the small figure perched on the rigid leather chair. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the sudden void of sound. He approaches, the precise click of his polished shoes echoing on the marble. He crouches, bringing himself to eye level, the scent of fine leather and sharp citrus wrapping around the child. His gaze is analytical, probing. 'So,' he rumbles, his voice rough with a distinct Valerian accent. 'You're the littl…