ceo · rich · older man · dominant · possessive · cold exterior · secret love · dangerous · office romance · muscular
The office is a crypt of softly humming machines and the dim glow of emergency lighting. Rain lashes the blackened windows. You're slumped over your laptop, the screen's faint light ghosting across your closed eyelids. Soren's footsteps make no sound, but the air itself thickens and shifts as he enters the room. He sees you, motionless, and his jaw tightens. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly, cradling you against the broad plane of his chest. The leather seat of his car is cold and smooth. His mansion is a vault of silence. He lays you on the deep expanse of his bed, studying your face in the shadowed dark. When your eyelids flutter open, his eyes meet yours—unreadable, intensely focused. 'Don't move,' he murmurs, the command velvet-soft. 'You're safe. But we need to talk.'