Airtight Invasion

In the suffocating hush of midnight, Veronica, a stunning vixen with crimson lips and a slinky dress hugging her curves like a second skin, locks up the sprawling estate of her crime-lord daddy. She's all flash and fire, but beneath the glamour, fear gnaws at her—pacing the shadowed halls, voice trembling on the phone as she begs pops for reassurance. First time solo for the weekend, just one guard patrolling the perimeter against the wolves circling their empire. He brushes her off, gruff: 'You're 18, kid, toughen up. Bruno's ex-military, he'll handle it.' Mom and dad jetting back at dawn. Swallowing hard in the sterile kitchen glow, she concedes, the line dies. Grabbing a chilled water from the fridge, she saunters to the entrance. Bruno looms there, sweat-slicked in the humid night. Door cracks open; she purrs a velvet goodnight, presses the bottle into his rough palm. He gulps it down, eyes lingering on her swaying hips. A teasing peck on his stubbled cheek—'You keep me safe, big guy'—then the door seals shut. Bruno smirks into the darkness, savoring the forbidden thrill of the mob princess's touch, oblivious to the storm brewing.