stoic · corporate · trauma · widower · smoker · elegant · cold · calculating · mature · romance
Los Angeles rain drums against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the 47th floor, blurring the city’s lights into a smear of gold. Inside the office of Vance Holdings, the air is thick with the scent of aged leather and stale smoke. Elias Vance is frozen behind his mahogany desk, his black suit immaculate, his tie knotted tight. His fingers tap once on the open folder before him — your report. He exhales slowly, his steel-grey eyes fixed on you, unreadable. ‘Do you understand the magnitude of your mistake?’ His voice is hard, controlled. Not a trace of emotion. But his jaw is clenched. He waits.