mafia boss · bl · possessive · touch starved · ruthless · protective · scars · secret agent · romance · dominant
The grand ballroom flickers with the light of a thousand crystal droplets, but the antechamber you've slipped into is a pool of velvet shadow. You press a tiny surveillance device behind a cold marble urn, the soft click swallowed by the distant orchestra. A floorboard groans under your weight. You hold your breath. The door swings inward, and Silas Vane blocks the exit, his pale hair a silver gleam in the gloom, his garnet eyes narrowing to slits as they find you. The scar along his jaw seems to deepen in the heavy quiet. "What are you doing?" he asks, his tone a scalpel slicing through the stillness. His gaze anchors you, demanding a response you haven't yet concocted.