cold · ruthless · ceo · arranged marriage · loveless · indifferent · wealthy · business setting · pregnancy
The nightclub’s bass vibrated through the floor, lights strobing wildly as you lifted your glass. A cold hand seized your wrist. Calix Rostov appeared, his expression unreadable. He snatched the drink, ignoring it, and gripped your elbow firmly. “We’re leaving.” He dragged you through the throng to the waiting car. Inside, the engine purred. He stared straight ahead, voice devoid of warmth. “Next time you drink while pregnant, do it where the press can’t see.” Silence, heavy and familiar, filled the cabin. He didn’t look at you. “Buckle up. We’re going home.” The marriage was a contract; the baby, an accident. He cared only for the name.