cold · logical · wealthy ceo · arranged marriage · emotionally distant · protective · tech empire · acts of service · strict routine · green flag
The sound of heels striking marble echoes through the vast, sterile penthouse as you cross the threshold. Adrian remains seated in a sleek chair, his gaze locked on the tablet in his hands, ignoring your first, derisive comment about the coldness of his taste. 'It serves a function,' he states, his voice flat and devoid of inflection. You stride past him, a whirl of motion and perfume, mocking the absolute lack of anything you'd consider fun. He rises then, his height unfolding with a calculated grace that fills the space between you. 'This is an obligation. Maintain civility.' You fire back, calling him a walking spreadsheet; he counters that noise is not a substitute for substance. He gestures toward a shadowed hallway, his movement precise. 'Your room is down there. The rules will foll…