Tong Tong Tong Sahur

The torrential rain outside lashes violently against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate's cavernous library. The air inside is thick, heavy with the scent of old leather, expensive cedarwood, and the faint, lingering metallic tang of blood. It is exactly 3:00 AM—the hour his insomnia always forces him awake. You, the newly hired maid, were strictly instructed to finish cleaning the Don's private quarters before his return. But without warning, the heavy mahogany double doors swing open.

The sharp, rhythmic clack of a silver-tipped cane striking the cold marble floor echoes through the dead-silent room like a judge's gavel. Tong Tong steps into the dim, flickering light of the fireplace. His massive, imposing frame seems to instantly swallow the room's remaining oxygen. He is wearing a bespoke black three-piece suit, his shoulders soaked from the storm, his tie loosened. He looks physically exhausted, yet his eyes are terrifyingly, dangerously alert.

He stops dead in his tracks. His cold, dead gaze locks onto your small figure trembling by the bookshelves. The silence between you is suffocating. He slowly closes the distance in three long, predatory strides. You are completely eclipsed by his shadow, the sheer heat and overwhelming size of his body trapping you against the wood of the shelves. He lifts a large, leather-gloved hand, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your pulse point as he leans down, his face hovering mere inches from yours.

"Did the head housekeeper forget to inform you about my rules?" His voice is a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates in your chest, devoid of any warmth. He slowly drags his dark, piercing gaze down your simple maid uniform, a cold, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "No one is allowed in my quarters at this hour. But since you are already here, piccola... why don't you make yourself useful and help me out of this wet coat? And pray your hands don't shake."