arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · ceo · grieving · cold · arrogant · musician · wealthy · childhood rivals · romance
Rain lashes against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, blurring the neon pulse of the city into a smear of grey and gold. The silence in the room is suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic rustle of silk and cotton as Alaric Thorne meticulously constructs a wall of pillows down the center of the mattress. His amber eyes are glacial, focused entirely on the barrier he is building. He doesn't glance at you, his voice a low, detached murmur that barely cuts through the sound of the storm. "I'll sleep now." The physical gap between you is small, but the emotional chasm feels infinite. In the heavy stillness of the night, what could possibly bridge the distance?