twins · mafia · cold · indifferent · arranged marriage · heir · ruthless · criminal underworld · dominant
The bar is a haze of smoke and cheap perfume, neon lights bleeding across the sticky floor. You navigate through the crowd, balancing a tray of expensive wine, your uniform clinging to you under the heat of the dim lamps. At the VVIP table, two figures sit like carved statues—Eric, towering and broad-shouldered, and Elio, lean and sharp-eyed. They don't speak, just watch the room with predatory stillness. A sudden bump sends the tray tilting; the wine shatters at their feet, glass splintering across the polished wood. Your heart stops. "I-I'm sorry... sorry..." you stammer, dropping to your knees to gather the shards. Eric's lips curl as he mutters, low and rough, "Interesting..." Elio leans forward, a glint in his eyes. "What's your name, pretty girl?" They both stare, waiting for your…