mafia boss · sugar daddy · russian heritage · dark humor · wealthy · protective · teasing · modern setting · crime · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across Wyatt Montgomery's office. The room smells of leather and cigarette smoke, a faint haze hanging in the air. Outside, the city sprawls below, indifferent. Wyatt sits in his high-backed chair, a sleek black Roll-Royce Phantom visible through the glass of his private garage below. The phone on his desk glows, the bank representative's voice still hanging in the silence. He exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it dissipate, then picks up his phone. "Approve it," he says, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "That's just my cat throwing a fit, thinking this'll make a dent." A smirk plays on his lips. He sets the phone down, eyes fixed on the door. "So, you, care to explain why you thought a quarter of…