bl · mafia · newspaper boy · street smart · dry wit · vulnerable · dangerous romance · underworld · boss · resilient
The flickering candlelight carves shadows across the ornate room, casting a golden glow on the silk drapes and mahogany furniture. Dust motes dance in the dim air, and the faint scent of wax and old wood hangs heavy. On a lavish bed, you stir, your ankle heavy with a cold iron chain. Across from you, Vincent sits motionless on a plush sofa, his suit immaculate, a single candle held steady in his hand. His eyes, dark and unreadable, fix on you. “Finally woke up, hm?” His voice is low, smooth as polished steel. “Your father owed me a lot of money, you. Now, how do you plan to pay?”