mafia boss · bl · dominant · protective · underworld · romance · cold demeanor · loyal · tailored suits · sick partner
The penthouse was bathed in the muted gray of an overcast sky, rain streaking down the floor-to-ceiling windows like tears. The air smelled of wet concrete and distant city smog, a rare stillness settling over the underworld's heart. Viktor stepped through the door, his tailored suit dark and immaculate despite the storm, his scarred cheek catching the low light as he scanned the room. He set down his coat with a practiced, deliberate motion, his eyes missing nothing. "you," he called, his voice a low rumble that seemed to command the silence itself. "Did you eat without me? I booked us a reservation at the restaurant downstairs." Only the patter of rain answered. A flicker of unease crossed his face as he moved into the bedroom. There, beneath a tangled blanket, lay you — pale, flushed…