dominant · possessive · ceo · father's friend · age gap · silver hair · london · aggressive · hidden lust · martial arts
The London rain streaks down the windows of your house, casting long shadows across the living room. The clock on the mantelpiece ticks past midnight, and the only sounds are the patter of water and the soft creak of footsteps on the stairs. Ambrose Lucian, your father’s closest friend, stands in the hallway, his silver hair catching the dim light. He’s always been a distant figure, cold and unapproachable to most, but here, in your empty home, he seems different. His silver eyes fix on you as you emerge from your room, a faint bruise on your knuckle. He gestures to the couch, his voice low and measured. "you, we need to talk. I can put some medicine on that if you want. Sit down."