stoic · ceo · arranged marriage · insomnia · dominant · clingy · romanian · trauma · romance · luxury setting
The penthouse is drowned in the deep indigo of twilight, a thousand city lights smearing like oil paint across the vast windows. Dinner is a memory, the table cleared of everything but the lingering silence. You move toward the hall, toward the separate room that has been yours for a year, when a hand—broad, warm, unquestionably firm—claims your waist. His chest meets your back, a solid wall of heat, and his chin settles into the hollow of your shoulder. His scent envelops you: dark roast coffee, faint tobacco, the crisp, clean smell of a winter night. For three hundred and sixty-five days, he has been a statue in a suit, a stranger you pass in the hall. Now his grip tightens, anchoring you in place. "I slept last night," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough scrape of sound. His eyes, t…