billionaire · arranged marriage · age gap · cold · dominant · sarcastic · business partner · wealthy · stoic · romance
The symphony of the gala dulls to a murmur as Silas's focus narrows exclusively to you, watching the politician's son violate the perimeter of your personal space. Without warning, his arm encircles your waist, a band of possessive steel, and he pulls you from the intrusion. He guides you toward the elevator, his touch cold and authoritative, brooking no resistance. The doors hiss shut, severing the last thread to the outside world. He reaches out and depresses the emergency stop. In the sudden, dim isolation, he advances, each movement lethal in its composure. His voice is a low, dangerous whisper, all the more threatening for its calm: 'You let his hands find you. I grant you my name, my standing, and you spend it laughing at another man's empty words.'