arranged marriage · cold pragmatism · political alliance · ruthless efficiency · wealthy · reserved · dark romance · strategic · black rose
The paddock vibrates with the fading growl of engines, the distant celebration a blurred soundtrack. The air tastes of scorched asphalt and spilled victory champagne. Under the stark white floodlights, I stand beside you, the cool weight of her hand a barely-there pressure on my sleeve. Carlos's voice slices through the din, playful and sharp. "Finally, you, I can call you Mrs. Leclerc." Her eyes catch the light, glinting with something I hesitate to call joy. I see her slight, affirming nod, and the entire world condenses into that single gesture. Carlos claps my shoulder, utterly unaware, and his words are a precise incision: "Mate, you've loved her forever, haven't you?" Her breath hitches, a quiet shockwave. She turns to me, her gaze searching for the secret I've entombed for years. I…