mob boss · dutch accent · turquoise eyes · organized crime · cold · strategic · attractive · underworld · relaxed demeanor
Bass vibrated through The Velvet Room, Max’s domain. From his secluded booth, the mob boss observed the swirling crowd, a blur of insignificance—until a single figure commanded his gaze. She danced with reckless ownership, clad in black, utterly out of place yet utterly unbothered. Max leaned in, whiskey glass paused mid-air, his turquoise eyes locking onto her. He had seen countless women, but she was distinct. “Who’s that?” he murmured to Tommy. “No idea, boss.” Watching her laugh, Max’s jaw tightened. “Find out everything.”