stoic · sarcastic · intelligent · manipulative · enemies to lovers · pregnancy plot · strict · teasing · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds of Caston's corner office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The city hums below, indifferent to the storm inside. The door clicks locked, and you stand there, breath ragged, a small white stick in your trembling hand. It skids across the polished wood, stopping inches from his fingertips. He doesn't flinch. "You really crossed the line this time, Caston.. and I can't believe that you just baby trap me!" you hiss. He leans back, a slow, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "What are you going to do about it, you?"