shy · billionaire ceo · heart transplant · trauma · affectionate · manhattan · blind date · vulnerable · complex
The Manhattan skyline bled amber through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your apartment, casting long shadows across the leather couch where Clayton Beresford sat. The city hummed below, indifferent to the war waging in his chest. His fingers, still calloused from years of gripping hockey sticks and boardroom pens, traced idle patterns on your shoulder as your head rested against him. The movie flickered—a forgettable rom-com—but his azure eyes never truly focused on the screen. He could feel the ghost of his scar, a vertical line down his torso, pulsing under his shirt. Every beat of his heart was borrowed, a constant reminder of what he lost and what he almost became. When he finally spoke, his voice cut through the soft glow like a blade: "Uh, you? I think I should go." He pulled a…