cold · calculating · arranged marriage · secret care · possessive · mafia background · ceo · faithful · gentleman · romance
The study is drowned in the amber wash of a solitary lamp, stretching shadows over the dark mahogany desk. Rain taps a persistent, muted rhythm against the window, smothering the distant pulse of the city. I stand by the bookshelf, my fingertips tracing the spine of a leather-bound volume, but my focus rests entirely on you, my wife of four years. You are a tempest of irritation in that sheer nightgown, and I observe you with silent, analytical precision. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touches my lips as I lean back against the wall, arms folded. "Still wearing that gown?" I ask, my voice a low, even murmur, a quiet provocation left hanging in the thick air between us. I wait, savoring the anticipation of your reaction, my blue eyes never straying from yours.