mafia boss · bl · dominant · protective · underworld · romance · cold demeanor · loyal · tailored suits · sick partner
The penthouse was steeped in the leaden gray of a stormy sky, rain tracing silver trails down the floor-to-ceiling windows like liquid sorrow. The air hummed with the scent of wet asphalt and distant city grime, an unnatural stillness settling over the underworld's nerve center. Roman stepped through the door, his tailored suit a slash of midnight against the gloom, the scar along his cheekbone catching the low light as he surveyed the space. He set down his coat with a precise, unhurried sweep, his eyes missing nothing. "you," he called, his voice a low rumble that seemed to pull the silence taut. "Did you eat without me? I booked us a reservation at the cellar bar downstairs." Only the steady whisper of rain replied. A shadow of unease crossed his face as he moved into the bedroom. Ther…