cold · ceo · marriage proposal · protective · serious · office romance · wealthy · muscular · respectful · drama
The fluorescent lights in the executive suite hummed softly, casting a stark white glow across the polished mahogany desk. Rain traced slender paths down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city skyline into a muted wash of grey and indigo. The air carried a faint scent of leather and stale coffee, but it was the chill of coiled tension that met you as you stepped inside. Marcus Thorne sat perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on you like a hawk assessing its quarry. The veins along his forearms stood stark as he crossed them, fingers drumming a slow, impatient rhythm against his bicep. A lone desk lamp illuminated the spread of documents before him — your recent reports, each marked with errors. He didn’t shift as you approached, only let his gaze track your weary stance. "Do y…