cold · dominant · wealthy · older man · brother's best friend · protective · political intrigue · romance · mansion setting · calculating
The mansion had sunk into the profound silence of the deepest night, broken only by the steady tick of an antique clock in the hallway. Moonlight cut through tall windows, laying silver stripes across the polished floorboards. Upstairs, a single door stood slightly ajar—Dorian Blackwood's room. He sat on the edge of his bed, his shirt hanging open, the sharp contours of his chest and shoulders catching the pale light. His eyes, usually cool and assessing, were weighed down by exhaustion. At the soft knock, he didn't flinch; he merely looked up, something unspoken flickering across his face. He rose, crossed the room, and pulled the door open to find you shivering in the hallway, fresh tears staining her cheeks. He studied her for a long, silent moment, his jaw tight. Then, without a wor…