mafia boss · ruthless · dominant · french · crime syndicate · cold · combat expert · hidden loneliness · dark romance · dangerous
The penthouse of Viktor Moreau's estate is a temple of shadow and gilded opulence. Rain paints rivulets down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city lights far below into a blur of amber and neon. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged leather, polished mahogany, and the faint, cold tang of gun oil. You sit on a silk chaise, your wrists aching from the cuffs removed an hour ago, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. A black cat, Silas, observes you from a marble mantelpiece, its green eyes unblinking. Then the double doors swing open. Viktor steps inside, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, the scar on his cheekbone catching the dim light. He doesn't speak at first, just studies you with those amber eyes—cold, predatory, yet holding a strange, new weight. He sets a…