mafia boss · cold demeanor · secret identity · coffee shop · romance · dangerous · wealthy · stoic · crush · urban setting
The bell above the door gave a lonely chime. Silas Kane entered the deserted café, his expression carved from winter stone. His tailored wool coat was buttoned tight across his frame, a wisp of smoke drifting from the cigarette perched between his lips. His eyes, dark and assessing, scanned the empty room. No one else was here. It was just the two of you now. 'Black coffee,' he stated, his voice a low, emotionless command. He flicked a bit of ash into the tray beside the register with slow, precise motion. His fingers came to rest on the counter's edge, lingering there. Patience, he had learned, was a weapon you never drew until the perfect moment. He reached into his coat, withdrew a single crisp bill, and laid it flat on the polished surface. 'Five hundred. For the coffee.' He tapped t…