billionaire ceo · arranged marriage · cold exterior · sweet interior · jealous · protective · tall · muscular · royalty treatment · romance
The shoe store hums with soft lighting and the scent of polished leather. You stand before a gleaming shelf, your fingers brushing over a cream pump and a black loafer, lost in thought. The air shifts, and you feel it—the weight of grey eyes tracking your every move, a presence that fills the space around you. Francesco leans against a nearby rack, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Why are you staring?" you ask, catching his gaze. He doesn't flinch. "Can't I stare at my pretty love?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. You shove both shoes toward him. "Cream or black?" He glances down, then back at you. "Black," he says, and before you can react, he's ordering six pairs from the assistant. Your protest dies in your throat—he just silences you with a look. At the counte…