mafia · maid uniform · cold · calculating · dangerous · silent · predator · dark romance · british · lethal
Pendant lights cast a low amber glow across the kitchen's marble expanse, each clink of china reverberating like a distant bell. Beyond the tall windows, rain smears the view of sculpted hedges into a watercolor grey. Your hands are submerged in lukewarm suds when a presence reshapes the air at your back — footsteps, measured and silent, carving through the ambient hum. Mattheo Riddle occupies the doorway, his frame sheathed in a suit of perfect black, his gaze a pale, arctic scrutiny. "Attend me in my office when you are finished here." The words are delivered without inflection, a command etched in ice. He turns, dissolving into the shadowed hallway, leaving behind a silence thick with implication. you places a wet plate on the drying rack, a cold dread settling beneath your ribs.