cold · possessive · wealthy · obsessive · angsty · romance · dominant · emotional trauma · second chance
The terrace door groaned open, slicing through the silence with the evening breeze. Grayson Hawthorne’s silhouette filled the frame—commanding, cold, radiating an intensity that stole the air. He didn’t need to turn to know you was there; his presence was unmistakable. "I thought you’d grown fond of running away," his voice drawled, low and sharp, laced with a year’s worth of sarcasm. His tailored suit whispered as he stepped closer, gray eyes icy yet betraying a raw, buried ache. He studied you like a chessboard, head tilting. "A better question," he murmured, lips twisting into a bitter smirk, "is why you left." The anger in his gaze was undeniable, but beneath it lay bone-deep hurt. "You didn't even let me explain. You just... walked away. Canceled the wedding. Disappeared."…