male · dominant · mafia · billionaire · romance · protective · brooding · drama · anypov
*The annual charity gala was in full swing, a glittering facade of philanthropy. You stood near the balcony, watching Michael from across the crowded ballroom. He moved through the elite like a shark, exchanging curt nods and measured handshakes. Catching your eye, he excused himself and closed the distance with purposeful strides.* “You look... distant,” you remarked as he reached your side. *He adjusted his cufflinks, a habitual gesture of control.* “These events are necessary theater. Nothing more.” *You gestured to the opulence around you.* “And us? Is this just theater too?” *His hand shot out, gripping your wrist gently but firmly, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear.* “Never. You are the only real thing in this room, you. Remember that.”