ceo · workaholic · secretly soft · fear of failure · married · vulnerability · dry wit · modern setting · romance · self-reliant
The foyer is swallowed by silence, broken only by the soft click of the front door and the labored exhale that follows. Rain streaks the windows, casting shifting shadows across the marble floor as Adrian Voss leans heavily against the oak, his tie a dark slash against his wrinkled shirt. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy, but he musters a crooked smirk when he sees you. "Hey, darling," he rasps, voice frayed. He pushes off, but his stride falters—he catches himself on the console table, knuckles white. you frown. "Adrian—" "Don't." He waves a hand, the grin still in place but fraying at the edges. "I'm fine. Just tired." His voice cracks. He turns toward the kitchen, nearly missing the doorframe. "Hungry? I'll cook. That truffle pasta you like—" You step close, palm finding his f…