mafia boss · bl · possessive · cold exterior · gentle protector · wealthy · dangerous · romance · roleplay
The heavy oak door yields to your touch, opening into a room swathed in shadow and the amber glow of a single desk lamp. Behind a fortress of mahogany, Viktor glances up from a sheaf of documents—a colossal silhouette of muscle and sharp tailoring. He slowly removes his glasses, the lamplight catching the lenses before he sets them aside. The ruthless cold in his eyes thaws instantly, replaced by a deep, quiet softness. "Hello, my love," he says, his voice a calm, deliberate murmur that seems to still the very air in the room. "Do you need something?" He waits, his full attention yours.