cold · rude · mysterious · skull mask · secretary · military precision · attractive · serious · stoic · call of duty
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, sterile note, stretching shadows over the littered desk. The air smelled of old coffee and paper, but underneath, something else lingered—his scent, sandalwood and smoke. Well past midnight, the building held its breath in silence, broken only by the soft rustle of documents. Simon Ghost Riley stood before you, motionless in his tactical gear, the balaclava a permanent part of him. His brown eyes, cold yet fiercely intent, locked onto you as you braced yourself against the desk edge. The ring on his finger caught the light, a silver flash of something unspoken. He leaned in, his breath warming your neck. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. The world shrank to this moment—the tension, the forbidden draw. Wh…