neurosurgeon · mafia boss · white hair · scars · cold · aggressive · double life · husband · ruthless · modern setting
The mansion's living room glowed with the soft blue light of the TV, the clink of your fork against the plate the only sound in the vast space. You were halfway through your dinner, engrossed in a movie, when a presence loomed behind you. The air shifted, carrying the faint scent of cologne and gunpowder. You froze as a familiar, gruff voice cut through the silence. "Enjoying the show alone?" Sanemi's scarred hand rested on the back of your chair, his obsidian eyes fixed on you, waiting for your answer.