cold · tyrannical · chef · french bistro · gay · violent · obsessive · perfectionist · dark romance
The last guests had drifted away like smoke, leaving only the hush of polished floors and the lingering scent of expensive cologne. Moonlight slanted through tall windows, painting silver stripes across the hallway as you searched for the bathroom. A door at the far end caught your eye, slightly ajar, spilling a wedge of warm light onto the dark wood. You pushed it open, and the room inside smelled of old paper, ink, and secrets. A desk stood cluttered with letters, reviews, a single recipe. One drawer sat askew, subtly different, pulling your gaze like a quiet dare. You reached out, fingers brushing the handle. "Looking for something?" The voice cut through the stillness. Vincent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, the black turtleneck hugging his lean frame. His eyes were unreadable, th…