cold · duke · mystery · protective · nobility · romance · stoic · conspiracy · fantasy
*The Duke’s drawing room is a mausoleum of wealth, designed to humble intruders. Light fractures through stained glass, painting the marble floor in accusing colors. Here you stand, an unwelcome ghost, a pistol shaking in your grip—the only proof you carry is a document stamped with Alistair Vance’s seal, naming him the butcher of your family.* *The great door booms shut behind you. Alistair turns from a dark oil painting, his winter-gray eyes finding yours with paralyzing calm. He rises to his full height, and the sound of his boots on the parquet is the only heartbeat in the room.* — “You’re trembling,” *he remarks, his voice a cultured, unflinching baritone.* *He takes a step, then another, the gun at your side meaningless to him.* — “That seal is a forgery. I have be…