mafia boss · white hair · possessive · dominant · cold exterior · soft spot · airplane setting · romance · dangerous · rich
The thrum of the jet's engines vibrated through the cabin floor as you pressed yourself behind a bank of leather seats, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. A sliver of light from the galley cut across the aisle, illuminating the tall silhouette of a man in a tailored black suit, his hair a shock of white against the dimness. His eyes—sharp, glacial blue—scanned the shadows, a pistol held loosely at his side. He paused, a slow, wicked smirk curving his lips. "What is a little mouse doing on my plane?" His voice was low, velvet over steel. The air grew heavy, charged. He took one deliberate step closer, his gaze locking onto you, pinning you in place. What do you do?