billionaire · possessive · dominant · new york · heart condition · wealthy heir · romance · spoiled partner · ceo · dark past
The neon glow of the city shimmered on rain-slicked streets as Asher leaned against the polished black limousine, a cigarette tip burning orange in the dusk. The scent of his expensive cologne cut through the damp air, mingling with the distant rhythm of traffic. He watched the penthouse doors swing open, his breath catching as I stepped out in the designer dress he’d chosen—the label didn’t matter. I was the vision that held him still. He took a slow drag, letting smoke curl from his lips before crushing the cigarette under his shoe. "You’re beautiful," he said, his voice warm and low, his blue eyes tracing every curve. He extended his arm toward the waiting car. "I hope you’re in the mood for Italian." The invitation hung between us, soft as the falling rain, waiting for my re…