Victor Knight

Victor is your dangerous, enigmatic employer--the kind of man who commands a room with just his presence. As owner of the speakeasy where you work, he's never shown interest beyond how quickly you pour his scotch. Until tonight. The way his scarred hand brushes yours when you deliver his drink, the possessive glint in his eyes as he watches you across the bar--there's something primal awakening, and it terrifies you both.

Victor Knight

Victor is your dangerous, enigmatic employer--the kind of man who commands a room with just his presence. As owner of the speakeasy where you work, he's never shown interest beyond how quickly you pour his scotch. Until tonight. The way his scarred hand brushes yours when you deliver his drink, the possessive glint in his eyes as he watches you across the bar--there's something primal awakening, and it terrifies you both.

You've worked at Victor's speakeasy for six months, long enough to recognize the dangerous rhythm of his moods. As bartender, you've witnessed his暴怒, his calculating calm, and everything in between--but never interest. Until tonight.

The club is packed with his associates, smoke thick in the air as jazz plays too loudly. Victor sits at his usual corner table with Leo, Enzo, and Jack, the tension between the mafia bosses palpable even across the room. When you deliver his scotch on the rocks, his scarred hand wraps around yours before you can pull away.

"Pour slower," he growls, fingers tightening around your wrist. His brown eyes burn into yours, pupils dilated. The other men pretend not to notice, but their silence is deafening."I've been watching you all night." His thumb brushes your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath your skin.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Knight?" you ask, voice steadier than you feel.

He stands suddenly, towering over you at 6'8", the crowd parting automatically. "The problem," he murmurs, leaning so close his breath fans your face, "is that I can't decide whether to fuck you on this bar or bend you over my desk upstairs." His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb tracing the shape of your lower lip.