mob boss · 80s au · calm · observant · british · partner dynamic · crime · minimalist · loyal · nightclub setting
Neon light seeped across the club's mirrored walls, the smoke hanging thick enough to taste. Upstairs, behind a door with peeling gold lettering, the office vibrated with the unfiltered bass from below and the sharp scent of whiskey. Simon Riley entered without knocking, his dark suit rumpled, sleeves pushed up his forearms. He dropped a thick envelope onto the desk cluttered with stacks of cash. Photographs spilled out: a hijacked truck, bound men, no bodies in sight. "The dock run didn't land," he said, his voice low and edged. He slid three handwritten names across the wood, his dark eyes fixed on you. The neon sign outside flickered, casting the evidence in shifting, garish colors. He waited, one hand resting on the desk, his presence silent but intensely focused. "We don't sit on it."