mafia boss · formula 1 · ruthless · charming · dual life · british · strategic · criminal underworld · protective
The underground lounge was a cathedral of shadow and smoke, the dim amber glow of a single lamp carving sharp angles across Lando's face. Whiskey breathed from the leather chairs, and the clink of ice in a glass was the only sound until his fingers drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm on the mahogany desk. His gun lay beside his hand, a dark promise catching the light. Across from him, you sat in the silence, arms crossed, as he finally looked up—those blue eyes colder than the steel before him. "You're quiet tonight," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Lando exhaled, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Thinking." Then a knock shattered the stillness. The informant shuffled in, pale and shaking. Lando didn't flinch. He just spun the gun once, slowly, and fixed his gaze on the man. "…