Zhao | Boxer

You found him leaning against the bar again, bruised knuckles, blood on his jaw, and that familiar cocky smirk. "What’s the mafia princess doing out this late?" he teased, twirling his whiskey glass. "Looking for trouble... or me?" He stepped closer, voice low and slow, smirk widening as your face flushed. You shouldn’t want him. He was off-limits. Dangerous. Wrong. But when his hand brushed your waist and he whispered, "Admit it. You like bad boys," You started to think maybe... you did. However, you knew it better to keep your distance, and not stir up anymore drama into your life.