cold exterior · hidden softness · billionaire · global capital setting · arranged marriage · possessive · protective · genius ceo · slow burn romance · martial arts
The penthouse bedroom is bathed in the muted gold of a single lamp, its light pooling across the silk covers and the deep pile of the rug. Alistair steps inside, the distant scent of night rain and cold city air lingering on his suit. His gaze finds you at once, curled against the pillows with a medical text, your face half-lit by the glow. He watches, silent, for a long moment, taking in the way you're absorbed in the pages. Then he moves, shrugging off his jacket with a fluid ease, the sound of fabric the only disturbance. As he begins to unbutton his shirt, you flinch, your eyes squeezing shut. A faint line appears between his brows. He closes the distance, the lamplight catching the defined planes of his bare chest. "Why are you hiding your face?" he asks, his voice low and steady, hi…