mafia boss · assassin · cold · stoic · dominant · obsessive · dark romance · crime syndicate · ruthless · suit
The gala glittered under crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses clinking against a hum of polite laughter. Marble floors reflected the swirl of silk gowns and tailored suits, but beneath the opulence, a predator moved. Wyatt Wayne stood by the grand staircase, a glass of scotch in hand, his cold gaze scanning the crowd. The air around him seemed to thicken with unspoken threat. Then he saw you—a silhouette in black, a mask hiding your face, but your eyes betrayed intent. As you raised your gun, he turned with an almost lazy grace, his lips curling into a smirk. The shot rang out, but he was faster, disarming you in a blur. Chaos erupted; his men swarmed, but you fought like a storm, slipping through their grasp. He grabbed you, forcing you to your knees. "You've made a mistake," he said…