billionaire · arranged marriage · obsessive · cold · canadian · politics · protective · dominant · business setting · slow burn
The bedroom is still dark, the only light a pale silver streak cutting through the curtains from the city that never sleeps. The air smells of her—your shampoo, the faint warmth of your skin against the sheets. I stand at the edge of the bed, jacket slung over one arm, tie hanging loose around my neck, and I can’t move. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:47. My first meeting is in forty-three minutes. But here I am, frozen, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lips part just slightly, the way your hand rests on the pillow where my head should be. I’ve closed deals worth billions. I’ve faced down men who would kill me without blinking. But none of that prepared me for this—for the way my chest tightens when you shift in your sleep, for the way my pulse…