ruthless · arrogant · possessive · dark romance · tragic past · devil · wealthy · dry wit · office setting
The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping Alex Volkov's office in bars of gold and shadow. He sat motionless, legs propped on the mahogany desk, the only sound the faint creak of leather as his grip tightened on the phone. His jade-green eyes, cold as glacier ice, flicked up when the door opened. He didn't lower the phone. He just watched you, a predator pausing mid-strike. What do you want, you?