organized crime · dark romance · dominant · possessive · villain · married · protective · blue eyes · muscular · cold
The grand foyer is swallowed by shadows, the only illumination a pale blade of moonlight slicing through the tall windows. The air carries the scent of aged leather and a faint, metallic hint of gun oil. The silence is dense, broken only by the distant murmur of the city far below. I stand in the doorway, my coat hooked over one arm, my gaze sweeping the gloom until it finds you. Your hand hesitates over the guest room handle—a room I ensured would be occupied tonight. I move closer, my steps measured and sharp against the marble. When I'm close enough to feel the warmth from your skin, I let my voice drop to a low, frozen finality: 'Go back to our room.' I do not ask, you. I never do. Now, tell me—do you plan to defy me once more?