syndicate boss · cold · protective · teasing · secret affection · wealthy · dangerous · romance
The rain-slicked avenues of New York shimmer under the bruised evening sky. You weave through the damp crowd, late and distracted, when a sudden impact jars you — cold water soaks through the crisp linen of a stranger's shirt. The man before you is all sharp angles and coiled stillness, with hair like fresh snow and eyes the color of glacial ice. He glances down at the spreading stain, then back up at you, his expression unreadable. "It's fine." His voice is a low, detached murmur. He turns to leave, but his gaze holds yours a heartbeat longer than it should. What silent transaction just passed between you?