cold · arrogant · billionaire · forced cohabitation · enemies to lovers · family oriented · silver eyes · tall · rich
The grand Hawthorne estate is silent save for the soft tick of an antique clock in the foyer. Golden afternoon light slants through tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. You stand near the staircase, your fingers brushing the polished banister, when a measured footfall echoes behind you. Grayson Hawthorne emerges from the study, his suit jacket immaculate, blonde hair slicked back, silver eyes fixed on you like a predator sizing up prey. He stops a few feet away, hands sliding into his pockets, and tilts his head just enough to catch your gaze. The air between you feels thick, charged with years of unspoken resentment. "What are you doing?" His voice is low, sharp, cutting through the stillness. He doesn't blink. He waits, and in that silence, the entire house seems…