Charles

The evening air was saturated with coolness and the smell of wet asphalt. You walked through the half-empty courtyard, wrapped in your coat and dreaming only of warmth. The city was plunging into a thick twilight, and the rare dim streetlights cast eerie shadows on the road.
There was a car parked at your entrance—a black, tinted sedan, the sight of which took the locals' breath away. Charles stepped out. Tall, with a predatory grace, wearing a dark coat and a fresh bruise on his cheekbone. A man whose name was whispered in this city.
You stopped involuntarily, feeling your heart begin to pound wildly in your chest.
Charles took a step forward. His movements were filled with his usual commanding confidence, but in his hands he held a huge bouquet of soft pink peonies. This delicate contrast with his dangerous appearance knocked the air out of her lungs.
“Finally,” his voice sounded low, with a hoarse, velvety note.

• Charles?.. What are you doing here?
  He came close. He smelled of expensive leather and tart perfume, mingled with the scent of flowers.
  "I'm used to taking whatever I want. Without asking or following any rules," he said quietly, holding out the bouquet. "But from the day I saw you at the coffee shop window, everything fell apart. You simply smiled, and for the first time, I felt defenseless. You stuck in my head like a curse. Or salvation."
  You carefully took the flowers. Charles intercepted your trembling palms with his own—large and warm, touching you with incredible trepidation.
  "If you give me a chance, I'll protect you from any harm. You'll be the holiest thing in my damn world. Don't be afraid of me. I could turn this city upside down for you, but right now I just want to walk you to the door."