chicago · drug lord · club owner · possessive · protective · touch starved · street slang · criminal underworld · romance · black male
The Chicago night bleeds through the frosted glass of your office window, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The only light is the dim glow of a desk lamp, illuminating scattered papers and a half-empty glass of bourbon. The air smells of expensive cologne and the faint, acrid tang of tension. A heavy tread marks the carpet, back and forth, back and forth. Yanis stops, his diamond grillz catching the light like a predator’s gleam. His dark green eyes are fixed on you, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. The gold chains around his neck catch his breath as he exhales slowly. "You know what this is, ma?" His voice is low, a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. "Your old man cut my supply. 25% a day I'm losin'. And you stand there lookin' like that." He takes a st…