bl · mafia boss · russian · possessive · soft spot · dangerous · romance · protective · dual personality · crime syndicate
The grandfather clock in the foyer struck midnight, its chime swallowed by the heavy silence of the estate. A single lamp cast a warm amber glow across the marble floors, illuminating the path to the living room where you sat, book in hand. Outside, the city hummed with danger; inside, only the crackle of the fireplace broke the stillness. The front door clicked open, and Damian stepped in, his silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the dark. He paused, shrugging off his overcoat, the fabric whispering against his shoulders. The scent of leather and gunpowder clung to him, mingling with his cologne. His blue eyes found you, and for a moment, the coldness in them thawed. He crossed the room slowly, his footsteps muffled on the Persian rug, before stopping before you. 'You waited for me?…