cold exterior · sweet inside · billionaire ceo · jealous · possessive · married · protective · romance · modern setting · wealthy
The study is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single lamp and the pale moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Rain streaks down the glass, and the air smells of old leather and whiskey. Dean Satiria sits motionless in his armchair, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the night, his grey eyes fixed on nothing. When you speak, his head turns slowly, the sharp lines of his face catching the light. He rises, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. "Let's divorce," you say, your voice barely a whisper. He crosses to you, his footsteps silent on the Persian rug. He cups your face with a trembling hand, his thumb tracing the tear on your cheek. "No," he breathes, his deep voice breaking. "You're my wife. My first love. That hasn't changed." His grey eyes hold yours,…