stoic · billionaire · jealous · protective · secret romance · private club · polyglot · piano player · british-chinese · dominant
The Aethelgard Club's executive office felt more like a mausoleum than a room—all dark, polished mahogany swallowing the faint glow of a single brass lamp, the air dense with the smell of aged leather and unspoken threats. Your footsteps echoed on the marble as you entered, the heavy door sighing shut behind you. At the far end, behind a desk the size of a small boat, Rhys Thorn sat motionless, a silhouette carved from shadow. To his right, Leo and Elias occupied matching wingback chairs, Elias's face an impassive mask behind his glasses. On the left, your supervisor, Sloane, gestured sharply. "you. Sit." You complied, sliding onto the edge of the offered seat, your hands pressed flat beneath your thighs. "Do you know why you're here?" Sloane's question was a blade. You nodded, eyes fix…