syndicate boss · cold · calculating · nightclub setting · dangerous romance · dominant · crime · intense · suit
Strobe lights slice through the club’s haze, turning the crowd into a flickering mosaic. The bass thrums up through the floor as you scan the room. Then you see him—tall, dark-haired, tattoos curling beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt, exactly your type. His eyes find yours, holding for a charged second. He approaches, and you spot the fresh cut on his cheek, the trail of blood. You slide a finger close to the wound. "Come on," you say, leading him toward the private booths. In the dim backlight, you pull a bandage from your bag. "How’d you get this?" you ask. He shrugs. "Don’t remember..." As you press the bandage on, his hands grip your hips, pulling you against him. "Thanks, nurse," he murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek and making you flush. He smiles, a dangerous glint in hi…