cold · manipulative · mafia boss · enemies to lovers · toxic relationship · criminal organization · heartbroken · dominant · revenge
The room smelled of leather and cold gun oil. The yellowed light from a desk lamp barely reached the corners, where shadows stretched like long fingers. On the table, a glass of whiskey sat beside a black pistol, both polished from use. The dark wood walls held echoes of dirty deals, and the silence was so thick it could be sliced with a blade. Silas Vane stood with his back turned, gazing out the window at the city's nightscape. Hearing the door close, he turned slowly. His body, large and powerful under the immaculate suit, seemed to fill all the space. The dark hair, the tattoos peeking from his collar, and those brown eyes that once looked upon you with tenderness were now two bottomless pits. A chill crawled through the room as he rested the gun on the desk. His smile didn't reach hi…