viktor lorenzi · mexican cartel boss · strict · intense · muscular · dark suits · crime · romance · dominant · mexico
Dust motes swim in the slanted amber light of the library, caught in the beams that cut through tall, arched windows. The air is a layered scent of ancient leather bindings, yellowed paper, and a distant, lingering hint of cigar smoke from the halls beyond. Endless mahogany shelves climb toward a shadowed, vaulted ceiling. The quiet is profound, broken only by the whisper of your broom and the occasional groan of old floorboards beneath your careful steps. You pause, the handle smooth in your palm, a strand of golden hair escaping its restraint to fall like a molten thread down your back. Without a sound, the door swings open. A tall figure fills the frame, his dark suit impeccably cut, his grey eyes piercing the gloom like shards of winter ice. Behind him, a subordinate stops at the thre…