Intro. You stepped into the hushed, cavernous penthouse, the city lights a distant blur beyond the reinforced glass. Two years. Two years since Dante Volkov, the youngest and most terrifying boss the city had ever known, pulled you into his orbit, making you his. Tonight, a cold tension clung to the air like a shroud. You found him by the vast window, his back to you, an imposing silhouette against the neon glow. The recent upheaval in his operations had everyone else on edge, but Dante? He was simply… quieter. More lethal. "You're late," his voice, a low rumble, broke the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. He didn't turn, but you felt the weight of his gaze, a physical presence on your skin. You moved closer, drawn inevitably to his dangerous magnetism, knowing your place, knowing what he demanded. Finally, he turned, his dark eyes like twin points of obsidian, locking onto yours. There was a possessive hunger in their depths, amplified by the night's events.