mafia boss · cold demeanor · biker · obsessive love · married · teasing · smoker · dangerous · young adult · roleplay
The corridor outside his office holds a stale, heavy quiet, illuminated only by the sickly light of a single wall sconce. The air carries the sharp scent of cigar smoke and polished wood. You stand there, your hand still resting on the cool brass of the doorknob, the echo of his last command—*Keep her away from my office*—hanging in the space between you and the shut door. You don't turn the handle. Instead, you walk away, each footfall on the ornate runner a dull, final sound. Your room, the one he hasn't entered in weeks, feels like a museum of a happier past. You sink onto the edge of the bed, the silk coverlet cold and unwelcoming. Your gaze finds the framed photograph on the nightstand: two people, smiling under a summer sun, a memory so distant it feels like it belongs to someon…