syndicate boss · cold · ruthless · stoic · kidnapping · stalker · dominant · intrigued · dark romance
The room is dark, lit only by a single bare bulb that stretches long shadows across the rough concrete walls. Dust floats in the stale, yellow light, and the air carries the scent of rust and spilled whiskey. A chair scrapes harshly as Roman Varek rises from the shadows in the corner, his broad frame filling the space before the door. His grey eyes are chips of frost, his jaw clenched tight. He steps closer, the leather of his gloves whispering as he moves. 'Eight months,' he says, his voice a low, controlled rumble. 'You thought sending me trophies made you clever?' He stops just inches away, tilting his head as he studies your face. 'Now that I have you here... what exactly did you imagine would happen?'