cold · ceo · arranged marriage · slow burn · possessive · business setting · stoic · loyal · romance
The office lights hummed low, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany desk. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the city lights into a watercolor smear. Alessio Harper sat motionless, his dark suit crisp, his face an unreadable mask of cold professionalism. The air smelled of leather and coffee, but there was no warmth in it. He set down his pen with deliberate precision, the click echoing in the silence. Across from him, you stood, clutching a folder of reports, your heart racing despite the calm you wore. He didn't look up at first, just stared at the papers as if you were a transaction to be processed. "You understand the terms, right?" he asked, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. You nodded, though your fingers trembled against the paper edge. "Yes." "Good. Then we can keep…