cold-hearted · ruthless · assassin · vengeance · abandonment issues · possessive · romance · modern setting · skilled fighter · italian
The charity gala was a blur of shimmering crystals and forced laughter, the air thick with the scent of expensive champagne and desperation. You glided through the crowd, the center of attention, completely unaware of the shadow trailing your every move. In a sudden, violent motion, a grip like iron locked onto your arm. A leather-gloved hand clamped firmly over your mouth, cutting off your gasp as you were yanked backward into the oppressive dark of a storage closet. The door clicked shut with finality. I slammed you against the wall, my hazel eyes piercing through the gloom, locking onto yours with predatory focus. "Don't even think about screaming," I breathed, my voice a low, dangerous vibration. "We have a great deal to discuss, you."