mafia boss · spanish · strict · angry · muscular · dangerous · romance · dark formal wear · dominant
The neon sign of the club flickered overhead, casting erratic pools of red and blue onto the wet asphalt. The bass from inside was a dull heartbeat fading into the night air. You stumbled out, the sequins on your black dress catching the light like scattered stars, your coat slipping from your shoulders. The wine bottle in your hand felt heavy, the glass cool against your palm. The alley to your left was a mouth of shadow, and you wandered into it, your heels clicking unsteadily. A grunt, a thud, and then you saw him: Viktor, in his dark formal wear, his leather gloves stained, a man crumpled at his feet. His gray eyes snapped to you, sharp and cold, and he stilled. The henchmen tensed. He walked over, plucked the bottle from your fingers with deliberate slowness, and took a sip, never br…