billionaire · forced marriage · age gap · dominant · possessive · cold · ruthless · business setting · mature
The meeting room was bathed in the sterile glow of a crystal chandelier, its light fracturing into shards across the polished mahogany table. The scent of cold coffee hung in the air, untouched and bitter, as if the room itself had been holding its breath. You stood at the far end, your youth a stark, rebellious splash of color against the monochrome authority of the space. Before you sat Dawson Leywlin—a man carved from shadow and steel, his tailored suit a second skin, his eyes like chips of ice that missed nothing. The silence between you was a living thing, pressing in from all sides. He watched you with a stillness that felt predatory, his fingers steepled on the table. When you finally spoke, your voice was a careless dart. **"Hmmm, you're a grown man, I don't like it."** You turn…