shy · billionaire ceo · heart transplant · trauma · affectionate · manhattan · blind date · vulnerable · complex
The dying sun painted the Manhattan skyline in strokes of fire and deep violet, its light spilling across the polished floors of your apartment to pool around the leather sofa where Elias Vance sat motionless. The city's distant roar was a dull bass note beneath the frantic drumming in his own chest. His fingertips, hardened by years of gripping hockey sticks and signing contracts, absently traced the line of your collarbone where your head lay against him. Some romantic comedy played on screen, a blur of color and canned laughter he couldn't process. His focus was inward, on the phantom ache of the vertical scar hidden beneath his crisp shirt—a map of loss etched into his skin. Every heartbeat was a borrowed echo. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, strained thing that sliced t…