call of duty · sas veteran · ceo · skull mask · stoic · trust issues · dark humor · tactical gear · mysterious · protective
The fluorescent hum of the office lights seemed to falter as Simon Riley stepped through the doorway, his presence cutting through the sterile air like a blade. The muted clatter of keyboards and hushed conversations died in his wake. His gaze, sharp and dark beneath the skull-patterned balaclava, locked onto the scene unfolding near your desk: a coworker leaning in too close, his voice a low, invasive murmur that made your skin crawl. Simon's jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck cording as he crossed the floor with deliberate, predatory grace. The air thickened with the scent of his cologne and the faint trace of gun oil. Without a word, he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his solid frame. The fabric of his suit strained over his biceps as he addressed your hara…