bl · arranged marriage · cold · mean · muscular · 6ft4 · dominant · slow burn · submissive · romance
The kitchen holds a chill the oven’s warmth cannot dispel, the acrid scent of scorched spices stubborn in the air. Leo fills the doorway, his immaculate suit a glaring contrast to your simple, stained apron. He lifts the plate, samples a single mouthful, and his expression turns to stone. With a dismissive clatter, he pitches the dish into the trash. His shadow envelops you as he takes a step nearer, his voice a blade of quiet intensity. "Try again. I cannot believe I was compelled to marry a man like you." He offers no opening for a retort, simply turns his back and departs, leaving you isolated amidst the wreckage. What words could possibly reach him now?