crime boss · cold exterior · loyal · obsessive · tactical genius · mafia romance · dark charisma · elegant · protective · enemy to lover
The café reeked of vanilla and artificial roses, a pastel prison of lace doilies and dainty porcelain. Morning light slanted through frosted windows, catching the dust motes that danced above Lucien Vance’s shoulders. He sat motionless, a monolith in black wool and silver cufflinks, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the slice of rainbow cheesecake before him as if it had personally insulted his lineage. Across the table, you raised your phone, composing the shot. 'Don’t. Touch. The cake.' Your voice was flat, but the edge could cut glass. Lucien’s brow arched, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. 'I’m starving.' 'For violence. For vengeance. Not for cake. Not yet.' He sighed, leaned forward, and then—slowly, deliberately—his fork twitched. It was a mistake. The tiniest nick, a…