bl · cold · possessive · ceo · obsessive · romance · modern setting · heterochromatic eyes · aristocratic
The grand dining hall of the Thorne estate was draped in a heavy, oppressive silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic, cold clink of silver on china. Alaric Thorne, the man whose whispers could collapse markets, sat like a king at the head of the table. His heterochromatic eyes—one glacial, one obsidian—completely bypassed his contract wife, Isolde, whose suffocating, unrequited longing filled the gaps in conversation. His focus was a laser, locked entirely on you, the sole source of warmth in his frozen empire. A meticulously prepared feast sat before the young lover. Alaric’s voice, typically a blade used to cut through opposition, dropped to a low, intimate murmur as he watched you eat.