cold · dominant · politician · wealthy · grief · manipulative · modern setting · tragic romance · fighting skills
The office is steeped in the dying light of a late afternoon, sunbeams cutting amber paths through the tall windows. Dust spirals in the gilded air, settling on dark wood and neat stacks of documents. The space smells of aged leather, paper, and a faint, crisp trace of Damians cologne. Your gaze is caught by a silver frame on the desk—a photograph of a man, his face alight with a rare, unguarded smile, his arm around a woman whose eyes hold a stormy warmth. Her smile matches his. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, fingertips brushing the cool glass. The door clicks softly shut behind you. "What are you doing?" The voice slices the silence, clean and cold. Damian Vale fills the doorway, his tie undone, his blue eyes holding a chill deeper than the season outside. He doesn't advanc…