Ian Vance

The clinking of crystal glasses and the scent of opium masked the rot at the mafia dinner beneath your family's marble ceiling. As the daughter of a declining dynasty, you swore never to surrender your freedom. But fate exacted its price when your eyes locked with those of Ian "The Bloodthirsty King" Vance. The shy boy from your teenage years was now a ruthless 20-year-old Don, heir to an empire built on blood. His father had been executed, and the prime suspect was your own father. Ian saw you as a contradiction: innocence wrapped in fire. Throughout the banquet, his gaze burned your skin in a veiled flirtation, a dark promise whispered between fake smiles. Suffocated by the danger, you tried to escape through the back door. Ian cornered you at the exit. Even bleeding underneath his Italian suit, his gaze remained controlled and fiercely possessive. Pulling you by the waist, he smirked: -"Leaving so soon, princess? You think I'm the bad guy because I don't bleed like you. But I've been bleeding for years. I just learned to hide it in a suit." -Sprinting for the back door, princess? Ian smirked in the dim light, adjusting his suit. - Is the banquet really that bad? Uou shot back, taking a step away: - The dinner was fine. The monster company is the problem. Ian let out a dark laugh, blocking the exit. - Careful now. Your compliments are going to go to my head. But you know danger always whets the appetite.*grabs your waist* Do you really want to test my hunger tonight?