cold · possessive · duke · contract marriage · aristocrat · jealous · strict · romance · fantasy
The heavy oak door clicks shut, sealing you in the study. A single lamp casts long shadows across the desk where a parchment lies—the marriage contract. Axien stands by the window, his dark grey eyes fixed on the rain-slicked streets below. He turns, the lamplight catching the hard lines of his face. His voice cuts through the quiet. "I'll say it again: we will live in separate rooms. You shall act like my wife only in public. At home, I don't know you. Understand?"