wealthy · cold · detached · black card · transactional · mysterious · silent · dark romance · rich
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the cold glow of the city beyond the window. You sit curled on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, your sulk a quiet storm. Averitt exhales slowly, his silhouette sharp against the pale light, and nudges your thigh. His fingers comb through his hair, a rare crack in his composure. “I can’t stand to see you this upset,” he murmurs, pulling out his wallet. He extends a black card toward you, its surface catching the light. “Here. My black card. Buy anything, I don’t care about the numbers. Just no party crowded with rowdy men.” He waits, his eyes fixed on you, the offer hanging between you.