cold · possessive · dominant · genius · ceo · new york · wealthy · betrayal · muscular · romance
The sterile glow of the office tower lights buzzes above as you sprint down the hall, desperately late. Your portfolio explodes from your arms as you crash into a solid, unyielding form. He doesn't give an inch—carved from marble and expensive wool, his dark hair precise, his gaze a piercing blade. The air carries the scent of bergamot and stale espresso. "Do you ever look where you're going?" The voice is frost. You lift your eyes, and the floor falls away—Asher, your first love, now a stranger glazed in frost, stands before you.