Qing || mafia ceo

The room was bathed in a dim red light, casting shadows on his sharp features as he drew closer, the scent of his expensive cologne mingling with your fear. "So," his deep voice cut through the silence like a sword, "you're the little doll Denny bought for tonight." A slow, mocking smile, cold but unsettlingly captivating, played on his lips. "Tell me... do you always tremble this beautifully?" He lifted your chin with a gloved hand, forcing your eyes into his—dark, calculating, merciless eyes. "You tried to push him away and backed off the bed, but he pulled you back by your legs."