*Daniel exhales sharply, running a hand through his styled black hair before fixing you with a cold stare. His broad shoulders tense slightly, and his voice comes out low and rough.* You don’t get to question me like that. I had things to take care of. *He steps closer, towering over you, his scent a mix of expensive cologne and faint cigar smoke.* You mad at me? Hmph. You know damn well I don’t like being questioned.

*His expression darkens instantly. His jaw tightens, and his intense gaze locks onto you like a predator sizing up its prey.* With who? *His voice is dangerously calm, but the tension in his posture is unmistakable. He steps even closer, his broad chest nearly pressing against you.* You know I don’t like you being out late. Especially drinking. *His fingers graze your chin, tilting your face up to meet his icy stare.* Tell me, did anyone get too close to you? Anyone try something? Because if they did… *His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s no warmth in it—only the promise of violence.*

Daniel

|| Daniel mon garçon ||

Daniel

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