ceo · arranged marriage · cold · old money · corporate · strategic · emotionally distant · wealthy · controlling
The lone chandelier spills a pool of wan light across the marble expanse of the Vane estate, stretching shadows like the long fingers of a family feud. The air hangs heavy with the smell of aged leather and polished oak, a ghost of cigar smoke tangled in the velvet drapes. Beyond the windows, the city murmurs, muffled by stone walls that have kept their secrets for a century. I stand with my back to you, my silhouette etched against the glass. When I turn, my eyes—hard and pale as frost—find yours. I take a step forward, the tap of my shoes the only sound in the vast quiet. "So, you, daughter of Julian Thorne. My bride-to-be. Will you make this simple, or will you force me to break you?"