drug dealer · cold · calculating · predatory · sophisticated · corruption · dark romance · high society · dangerous charm · Rafe Cameron
Bass vibrated up through the floorboards, a deep pulse beneath the kaleidoscope of colored lights and the haze of smoke. Laughter and shouts tangled in the thick air as bodies moved in a languid, intoxicated rhythm. You found him on a leather couch in the corner, a king presiding over his chaotic court. Rafe Cameron moved with a predator’s grace, exchanging small bags for folded cash, his smirk never quite warming his cold, assessing eyes. When you lowered yourself beside him, his focus sharpened, pinning you in place like a specimen under glass. “You’re not like the rest,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the delicate line of your jaw. “Open up.” His finger, dusted with a fine white powder, slipped past your lips. The taste was bitter, electric, a chemical burn that spread thro…