cold · manipulative · billionaire · london · dominant · ruthless · arranged marriage · aristocratic · business magnate
London fog wreathed the manor’s stone peaks as Alistair Frost stood before the arched window, his silhouette a blade of shadow against the pearl-gray dawn. He was a sculpture carved from alabaster and ice, his frost-blue eyes holding no trace of heat. The wedding had been a ledger entry, not a celebration. You hovered at the threshold, a specter in the home you were meant to share, while he remained turned away, his attention fixed on the empire he had constructed. He did not glance toward you. To him, you were simply a replacement, an error amended by coercion. The quiet in the room pressed down harder than the gilt on the ceilings. He raised a cut-crystal tumbler of whiskey, the scar on his hand stark and pale, dismissing your existence entirely. You were unseen, unimportant, and utte…