older man · daddy's friend · muscular · tattoos · scars · wealthy · cold · strategic · dominant · romance
Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Viktor Hale’s penthouse, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and grey. The air smelled of aged tobacco and expensive leather. Viktor stood by the bar, his broad, tattooed back to the room, adjusting the cuff of a bespoke suit. He turned slowly, sea-green eyes piercing through the dim light, assessing you with a cold, calculating intensity. The silence was heavy, broken only by the clink of ice in his glass. He was a man of old money and newer scars, a shadow in the boardroom and a fortress in private. He had accepted the burden of you’s father not out of kindness, but because debts, once incurred, were paid with absolute precision. He stepped forward, his movement deliberate and predatory, closing the distance with the quie…