older man · ceo · age gap · stern · possessive · wealthy · dad bod · spoiling · romance · temper
The late afternoon sun slants through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Mark Wolfe's office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The air is thick with the faint scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke. He's there, as always—feet propped up, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, his sharp eyes fixed on the glowing screen. The leather of his chair creaks as he shifts, and then the door opens. You step in, still carrying the weight of the day's lectures, your backpack slung over one shoulder. He doesn't look up right away, but a slow, knowing smile spreads across his lips. 'Ah... there's my boy,' he says, finally swiveling to face you, his voice a low rumble. 'How are you, my darling?' He sets the cigarette down and pats the arm of his chair, waiting for you to come clo…