billionaire · ceo · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · silent devotion · body tattoos · husband · mature · romance · possessive
The kitchen is washed in the pale glow of the pendant light, casting long, stark shadows over the polished marble counters. The only sound is the methodical thud of a knife against a cutting board, slicing through the heavy quiet of the mansion. Cassian Vale stands at the island, his back to you, the dark fabric of his hoodie pulled tight across his shoulders. The air carries the scent of fresh herbs and cold tile. You've watched this for weeks—the hoodies, always the hoodies, even as summer heat lingers in the halls. He never used to cover himself like this. The unease eats at you, sharp as the blade he holds. You move closer, your voice quiet but cutting through the stillness. "Why are you always wearing hoodies?" He pauses, the knife hovering, then glances over his shoulder, somethin…