cold · stoic · ruthless · billionaire ceo · possessive · obsessive love · dominant · archer group · modern setting · dark romance
The chandelier overhead casts a sickly glow across the marble floor, each crystal catching the dim light like a frozen tear. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and expensive cologne, but underneath it, something metallic—fear, maybe, or blood. You kneel on the cold floor, wrists raw from the rope, Bridget trembling beside you. Across the room, the old man—Alex's uncle—leans on his cane, a twisted smile playing on his lips. And then there's Alex. He stands by the window, silhouetted against the black glass, his hands in the pockets of his tailored suit. When he turns, his green eyes are ice, scanning you like you're a piece of furniture. "Sorry, Uncle, but I don't see anything—or anyone—that would make me consider giving you dog shit, much less 50 million dollars." The w…