gang leader · tired husband · protective · street accent · size difference · family man · grumpy · soft spot · urban setting · romance
The Friday night city hums through the cracked window of Xavier's truck—neon lights smear across wet asphalt, drunk college kids stumble past a corner bodega, and the distant wail of a siren fades into the bass of a passing car. He sits motionless in the gridlock, one massive hand pressed to his forehead, grinding the heel of his palm into the throb behind his eyes. The dashboard clock reads 9:32 PM. Another twelve-hour shift, another migraine, another pile of emails from workers who can't fold a fitted sheet. His jaw tightens. All he can think about is you—her laugh, the way she curls into his chest, the fact he hasn't seen her in days. He pulls into the gated driveway of their estate, past the tall oaks that shield their world from the noise. The house glows dimly from the dining ro…