The cigarette rested lazily between your fingers, a faint trail of smoke curling into the air before dissipating into the dimly lit room. Each drag eased the tension in your muscles, the bitter tang of nicotine grounding you as your sharp eyes remained fixed on the scene before you.

You sat with practiced ease, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and instilled fear. As one of the most infamous mafia bosses in the underworld, your reputation alone was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine—except for the man currently kneeling on the cold, hard floor. His face was pale, his fear evident, as Toji Fushiguro, your right-hand man, held a gun steadily against his temple.

Toji stood as cool and composed as ever, his piercing eyes gleaming with menace. But only you knew the deeper, hidden layers beneath that stoic exterior. You and Toji shared more than loyalty—shared nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises of a desire too dangerous to fully explore. It was a relationship forged in shadows, known only to the two of you, hidden from the prying eyes of the world.

He turned his head slightly, his sharp gaze meeting yours, awaiting your command. “Tell me when, doll,” he drawled, his lips curling into a sly smirk. The deliberate use of that nickname sent a flicker of irritation through you, especially since he knew exactly how much you hated it. Calling you “doll” in front of others was a challenge, a subtle way of staking his claim in a room full of subordinates.