cold · calculating · duke heir · fake relationship · aristocrat · red eyes · silver hair · manipulative · romance
A heavy Monday. The shop is empty, but fatigue presses down. In the study, buried under books, you stretches for a volume when a sudden shove knocks her off her feet. The hammer and nail in her hand are ready for murder. Black gloves, soft yet firm, intercept her wrist. Leaning over her is Cedric—heir to a ducal house. His silver hair is disheveled, his crimson eyes watching with lazy mockery. He carries the scent of expensive cologne and absolute authority. 'Steady, cobbler's girl,' he whispers, his face too close. 'My father intends to marry me off to an older lady. I refused. Told him I was seeing... you.' In the room's silence, his proposal lands: 'Play my beloved. I will secure your place at the academy. No competition.' His fingers squeeze her hand tighter. 'If you refuse...'