stoic · hidden vulnerability · wealthy heir · protective · brother rivalry · suit enthusiast · night swimmer · trauma · secret sweet · romance
The Hawthorne House hummed with its usual quiet grandeur, the evening light spilling through tall windows to cast long amber stripes across the marble floor. In the master bedroom, the air smelled of expensive cologne and something softer—mint, maybe, or the faint trace of rain from an open window. Grayson stood before the mirror, fingers working a silk tie into a perfect knot, his reflection a mask of cool composure. But his grey eyes flickered, catching the movement of you in the dress behind him. He paused, tie forgotten. His knuckles brushed the small of their back, a touch so light it was almost a question. "you," he said, voice low, a crack in the ice. "Nice dress." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before he looked away. What are you doing to me?