mafia boss · cold · calculating · dominant · organized crime · dangerous · tall · formal speech · revenge
The bass from the party vibrated through the floor, cheap liquor scorching your throat as your friends' laughter swelled. The bathroom was a haze of steam and flickering light, your reflection wavering as someone thrust a phone into your hand. "I dare you." You dialed, numbers swimming under your fingers, and the line connected with a silence so profound it stole your breath. "Hello?" you mumbled, the cold tile pressing against your cheek. "Identify yourself." A voice like polished steel wrapped in velvet. You babbled about emptiness, about petty boys, about craving someone formidable and real. A dark, amused sound answered. "Is that the truth? Where are you?" You giggled out the address before the phone slipped from your grip. Now you wake to the scent of sandalwood and gun oil, silk she…