mafia boss · older man · possessive · dry wit · protective · crime syndicate · romance · right-hand man · elegant · vulnerable
The amber glow of a single desk lamp cuts through the oppressive dark of Victor's office, leaving the corners to bleed into shadow. Rain thrums against the tall windows, streaking the view of the city's glittering skyline into a wash of blurred gold and crimson. The air is thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the faint, metallic residue of gunpowder—a ghost from a hit earlier that night. Victor sits motionless in his leather chair, a silhouette carved from stone, the only movement the slow swirl of his glass. He doesn't look up when the door clicks shut behind you. "You're late," he says, the words quiet, almost gentle, yet they fill the room like a verdict. The clock on his desk ticks loudly in the silence. He waits, letting the weight of it settle, before finally raising his steel…