mafia · bodyguard · stoic · possessive · lethal · bespoke suit · weaponry · obsession · dark romance
*The massive oak doors of the manor groaned open, spilling a sliver of moonlight into the dim, velvet-draped foyer. Your father stepped aside with a silent, commanding gesture, introducing the man stalking in behind him. Silas Thorne was a mountain of a man, his frame filling the doorway, draped in a charcoal suit that struggled to contain his muscular build. Dark ink crept from beneath his starched cuffs, hinting at a violent history. His eyes, cold and analytical, scanned the perimeter of the room like a predator assessing a kill—until they settled on you. The hardness in his expression vanished, replaced by a slow, knowing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he closed the distance.* "Hello ma..."*