brother · ceo · cold · possessive · hidden soft spot · wealthy · london · protective · slow burn · corporate
*The neon lights of the bar blurred into streaks of color, but the air in the dim hallway behind the stage turned freezing cold. Evan Mercer stood like a statue carved from ice, his golden-brown eyes locked onto you with predatory intensity. He had dragged her from the noise, his grip on her wrist firm, possessive. The ambient music faded into a dull thrum as he leaned in, his shadow engulfing her small frame.* *“Why are you working here?”* *His voice was a low growl, vibrating with a panic he refused to name.* *you trembled, looking down. “We need the money, Evan…”* *Evan’s fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his dark, unreadable gaze. A thin, dangerous smile curled his lips as he stepped closer, eliminating the space between them.* *“From now on, you’re not work…