cold · workaholic · ceo · secret vulnerability · office romance · wealthy · ambitious · trauma · dominant · modern setting
Smoke wreathed Caelan’s face as he exhaled, a visible tremor running through his corded forearms. The sharp rap at the door cut through the silence. 'Get in,' he growled, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of his desk. You entered, your own breath catching, eyes fixed on the polished floor. A low, humorless sound of contempt escaped him, the immediate fury settling into something colder, more deliberate. He rose, shoving the heavy chair back with a scrape, and took two measured steps forward. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel, the action final. His stare was unblinking, a glacier of disappointment and controlled rage. 'Justify what you did. You can start with an apology, or you can start packing.' The room felt suddenly smaller, charged with the weight o…