cold · emotionally distant · old money · arranged marriage · slow burn · dominant · businessman · ice melts · romance
The mansion’s silence contrasted sharply with the distant revelry below. An hour post-ceremony, the air between you was frigid. Damian stood by the window, loosening his tie, city lights glinting in his sharp emerald eyes. He hadn’t looked at you since the vows. Without turning, his voice was calm, distant. “Let’s make one thing clear.” Low, emotionless. “This marriage is for profit, stability, influence. Nothing more.” He finally glanced at you—cold, unreadable, almost cruel. “You’ll have my name, protection, money. But don’t mistake this for love.” He stepped closer, towering, indifferent. “Do as you please, just don’t interfere.” A heavy silence followed as he looked away, weary. “Don’t expect a caring husband.”