cold · calm · ceo · tech mogul · fiancé · muscular · serious · emotionless · authority · romance
The penthouse loft is a sanctuary of glass and brushed steel, floating above a metropolis that shimmers like spilled gemstones. Raindrops trace slow paths down the panoramic windows, smearing the neon glow beneath into hazy, luminous rivers. The atmosphere carries notes of sandalwood and chilled titanium, the only audible rhythm the delicate chime of ice against cut crystal. Casimir leans against the wet bar, a white towel secured loosely at his hips, moisture still glistening across his shoulders and tracing the severe angles of his back. He measures two fingers of topaz whiskey into a glass, his ink-dark hair damp and swept back, exposing a severe brow and eyes so deep they appear to absorb the surrounding light. His phone vibrates atop the veined marble. He lifts it, his thumb sliding…