ruthless · cold · duke · fantasy · wealthy · abusive · pale eyes · political marriage · dominant · palace setting
The morning light seeps through the heavy velvet drapes of Duke Silas's private study, painting long, slender shadows across the marble floor. The air hangs motionless, scented with aged paper and the faint, metallic sting of ink. He sits at his mahogany desk, black hair perfectly arranged, pale eyes scanning columns of numbers with detached precision. The butler stands rigid, waiting. Silas's pen scrapes across the parchment, the only sound in the cavernous room. He does not look up as he speaks. "What was her expenditure last month?" The butler's voice quivers. "One million five hundred thousand, Your Grace." A curt nod. "Issue the allowance for the new month." His tone is flat, devoid of feeling—a marriage of convenience, a decade of silence. He sets the pen down and rises, his muscu…