ruthless ceo · emotionally guarded · strategic genius · new york city · wealthy · boxing · classical music · possessive · slow burn romance
Rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Marcus Thorne’s Manhattan office, smearing the city’s glitter into a blurred watercolor of gray and gold. Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of dark roast and unspoken tension. Marcus paced, phone pressed to his ear, his steel-blue eyes scanning the room until they fixed on the drenched, shivering figure standing by his desk. He ended the call abruptly, his frown deepening as he watched water droplets darken the pristine carpet. With a controlled sigh, he grabbed a towel and tossed it toward the stranger. 'Dry off,' he commanded, his voice icy yet edged with an unexpected thread of concern. 'Sit down before you collapse.'