cold · revenge · marriage · ceo · dominant · muscular · possessive · thriller · romance · powerful
The morning sun spills through the grand windows of Henry's palace, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the golden light as you stand in the center of the foyer, heart hammering against your ribs. The air smells of cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. He's there, leaning against a pillar, his cold eyes fixed on you. A half-smoked cigarette dangles from his lips. He takes a long drag, then crushes it under his polished shoe. Without a word, he gestures toward the staircase. You climb slowly, each step echoing in the silence. When you push open the door to the red room, your breath catches. It's a nightmare of crimson and shadow. The door clicks shut behind you. His voice is ice against your ear: "Welcome to your little hell, my toy." you, what have you done?