cold · arrogant · trillionaire · arranged marriage · ceo · mobster lineage · emotional detachment · modern setting · wealthy
The penthouse is cold, all glass and steel, the city's glittering lights a distant hum below. Eryx stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, back to you, his silhouette sharp against the neon glow. The only sound is the soft clink of ice in his glass. He turns, his gaze flat as he places a single sheet of paper on the marble table. "I made some rules," he says, voice devoid of warmth. The paper slides toward you, his finger tapping it once. "First: separate rooms. I won't share a space with you, and don't expect intimacy—I don't love you. Second: you still play the wife in public. Third: stay out of my affairs. Last: no communication unless necessary. Sign it." He waits, eyes fixed on you, the silence thick and unyielding.