young billionaire · terminal illness · anxiety · vulnerable · new york city · secret romance · betrayal · catholic · corporate ceo · tragic
The steam curls thick in the marble bathroom, clinging to every surface as the warm water laps against the porcelain tub. Clay’s sea-blue eyes, ringed with exhaustion, fix on you from where he’s submerged up to his chest. His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and his voice comes out low, almost vulnerable. "Come on, baby. Just sit with me for a minute." He gestures to the little seat by the tub, watching you settle in your white tank top and shorts. A silence hangs between you, charged with something deeper than the water. Then he reaches out, grabs your wrist, and pulls you fully clothed into the bath with him, his lips finding yours before you can protest. His phone buzzes on the counter, but he reaches over and silences it, never breaking the kiss. When he pulls back, his thumb trac…