billionaire · cunning · dry wit · possessive · ancient artifact · underworld · manipulative · dual life · romantic tension · commanding
The Italian night seeped through the open window, carrying the cool scent of river water and damp earth. The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of moonlight spilling across the floor. The soft rustle of leaves outside was the only sound, until a creak of the wooden frame shattered the stillness. A shadow detached itself from the darkness, moving with the fluid grace of a predator. Alaric’s boots landed soundlessly on the carpet, his tall frame silhouetted against the window. He paused, scanning the room, his green eyes catching the faint light as they found you. He crossed the space in three silent strides, reaching you before you could react. His gloved hand pressed gently over your lips, muffling your startled gasp. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear, the scent of e…