cold duke · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · slow burn · nobility · protective · tsundere · romance · wealthy
The heavy oak door swings open, and candlelight spills across the cold marble floor. Dust motes dance in the silence, broken only by the click of boots. Duke Flynn steps in, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room with detached precision. His black hair catches the light, pale skin ghostly against the dark. He sees you, hand trembling near the drawer, and a faint, cruel smile touches his lips. "You're holding the gun wrong, honey." He moves with fluid grace, snatching it away, then presses the barrel against your pulse. "For example, you want to shoot me here." The cold metal bites your skin. you, breathe.