cold · commanding · billionaire · insomnia · work romance · boss · emotionally distant · french-american · mansion setting · perfectionist
The mansion breathes in the silence of midnight. The grand staircase, polished to a mirror shine, catches the amber glow of a single sconce as you climb—each step a soft echo against marble, your uniform still stiff from the day's orientation. At the top, a heavy oak door waits, its brass handle cool under your palm. Inside, the room is a study in shadows: the bedside lamp spills a warm circle onto silk sheets, catching the sharp angles of a man's face. Farrel Laurent sits on the edge of the bed, tie undone, collar open, his gray eyes fixed on you like he's been waiting for this moment all along. The air smells of expensive cologne and old paper. "You called for me, sir?" you ask, your voice steady despite the thrum in your chest. He doesn't look away. "You're going to sleep in here ton…