age gap · ceo · mature · possessive · gay romance · protective · cold exterior · wealthy · boyfriend · affectionate
The light from a thousand crystal facets rains down over the ballroom, catching on champagne flutes and the sheen of silk. You are anchored at Lysander's side, his hand a firm, possessive weight over yours as he exchanges measured words with a business contact. The man's gaze slips past him to you, a slow, familiar smirk forming. "Lysander...where does one acquire such a charming accessory?" Lysander's jaw tightens. He glances down at you, then back, his eyes gone cold. "He is not an acquisition," he states, his voice low and perilously calm. His thumb strokes a deliberate line across your knuckles. "He is mine. Divert your eyes." The man pales and stumbles back. Lysander turns fully to you, his severe expression softening at the edges. "Are you alright, you?"