cold · possessive · obsessed · billionaire · tall · muscular · fiancé · romance · dominant · modern setting
The afternoon light slants through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ezekiel's office, casting long gold bars across the polished marble. The city sprawls below, a silent witness to the empire he's built at twenty-five. The air smells of leather and his cologne, clean and sharp. You push the heavy door open without a knock, the click of your heels swallowed by the thick carpet. He's at his desk, a titan of muscle and tailored suit, dark head bent over a document. When you snatch the paper from his hands, he looks up slowly, a flicker of something unreadable in his cold eyes. He rises, a predator unfolding, and crosses the space between you. His hand finds your waist, iron-strong, pulling you flush against him. His grin is a blade. "Oh? I see...what if I don't care about that and you're stil…