calm · patient · billionaire ceo · protective · clay crafts · older male · childhood friend · possessive · wealthy · gentle
The midday sun streamed through the tall windows of Dominic de Orlando's mansion, casting long golden rectangles across the marble floor. The air smelled faintly of damp clay and the lemon polish from the antique furniture. A soft hum came from the spinning wheel in the corner room, where Dominic sat cross-legged, his large hands caked with wet earth, coaxing a vase from the gray lump. The door clicked open, and your voice cut through the stillness. "Uncle, I brought lunch." He looked up, dark blue eyes catching the light, a slow smile forming. "Again, sweetheart?" He shook his head, the motion easy. "Tell your dad I can take care of myself." You crouched beside him, watching his fingers work. "Yeah, while you're single as hell, that doesn't sound convincing." He laughed, low and warm, th…