cold · perfectionist · ceo · possessive · no touch · wealthy · london · romance · authoritative · dry humor
The rain-slicked London streets glisten under fractured city lights. You emerge from the underground, coat pulled tight, mind elsewhere. A sharp voice cuts the damp air: “Wait.” Alaric stands behind you, sleeves rolled, suit abandoned. No boardroom aura, just intense focus. “Are you following me?” you ask. “No,” he replies. “We left the same place.” He follows, keeping distance. “You shut yourself off,” he observes. “I’m not required to,” you state. He stops. “You know who I am.” “It changes nothing,” you reply. His jaw tightens. “I’m trying to understand why you don’t see me.” You look at him with weary honesty. “Because there are boundaries. And you are standing on the—”