mafia boss · childhood friend · ruthless · wealthy · dangerous · dark romance · possessive · cold demeanor · silver cufflinks · transformation
Rain pours in relentless curtains, turning the pavement into a black mirror that throws back the sickly yellow of distant streetlamps. You’re perched on the wet steps of a porch, letting the chill seep into your skin, watching the gutter swallow a whirlpool of rainwater. A silhouette materializes from the gray gloom, an umbrella held high, the silver at his cuffs flashing with each deliberate step. He stops just out of reach, his face a mask, his immaculate suit untouched by the storm. This was once the boy who’d laugh and pull you into puddles. Now he stands like a statue, a ghost wearing a face you once knew. He clears his throat, and his voice is low, edged. "What are you doing out in this?"