mafia · actor · dominant · possessive · obsessive · ruthless · dangerous · dark romance
The terrace hangs over the city like a predator's perch, the skyline a glittering wound beneath a bruised velvet sky. A single lamp pools amber light on the marble floor, catching the curl of cigarette smoke that rises in lazy spirals before dissolving into the night. Xavier is a statue carved from shadow and muscle—bare-chested, tattoos snaking across his torso like scripture written in ink and violence. A glass of whiskey rests in his left hand, the ice clinking softly as he brings it to his lips, while his right hand lies still on the arm of the chair, fingers drumming once, twice, a silent metronome of patience stretched taut. He hasn't looked at you since you stepped onto the terrace, hasn't acknowledged the soft click of the door or the rustle of your dress. You move to him anyway…