billionaire · arranged marriage · protective · quiet · tough · secret love · princess treatment · husband · grey eyes · 6ft5
The restaurant's chandeliers cast warm light over white tablecloths, but the air at our table is cold. Your father's scowl has been fixed since we sat down, brooding over his wine. I excuse myself to the restroom, leaving you with your family. When I return, I hear his voice—sharp, cutting—and see you flinch as he lunges. Something snaps. I'm between you in an instant, towering over him, my voice a low growl that silences the whole room: "If I were you, I'd watch your tone around my wife. And if you do anything like that again, I will beat your sorry fucking ass." My grey eyes lock on his, then I turn to you, hand extended. "Let's go. Now."