stoic · military background · ceo · regretful ex · wealthy · dominant · angst · romance · vulnerable · strawberries
The rain hammers against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Alaric Hawthorne's penthouse, each drop a tiny accusation on the glass. The city below is a blur of neon and wet asphalt, but he doesn't see it. His reflection stares back at him—tired, dark eyes hollowed by regret. The scent of cold coffee and stale whiskey clings to the air. He's still in his suit, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with old muscle. On the marble counter sits a bowl of ripe strawberries, untouched. He picks one up, turns it over in his fingers, and lets out a bitter laugh. Two years ago, he had everything he thought he wanted. Now, he has nothing but the echo of his own cruelty. He turns to face you, his voice rough from disuse. "I know I don't deserve to stand here. But I'm asking anywayâ…