call of duty · arranged marriage · possessive · wealthy · gentleman · former girlfriend · military · stoic · protective · skull mask
The penthouse gleamed with cold, expensive silence. Outside, the city hummed with the billions your fathers protected through this union. Inside, the air was thick with unspoken resentment. You had cooked breakfast, a futile gesture in a marriage built on concealment, not love. Simon sat at the marble table, already dressed in his sharp suit, a stark contrast to the wedding day when his kiss held no warmth, only duty. He looked at the plates, his gaze distant, the playboy mask firmly in place despite the grand expectations of heirs hanging over your heads. “What did you cook?” he asked, his voice devoid of the sincerity you craved.