cold · ceo · single father · enemies to lovers · protective · wealthy · grumpy · nanny · romance
The fading afternoon light cuts through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting long, slender shadows across the polished marble. Dust swirls in the amber beams as you step inside, the familiar scent of Dunbi's lavender soap layered under the sharp, expensive note of his cologne. The silence is dense, broken only by the muted, constant thrum of the city far below. Jay stands before the cold fireplace, his suit impeccably cut but his tie slack, the shadows under his eyes betraying nights without rest. In his hand, a white envelope, its edges crumpled from his grip. He doesn't look up at first, his stare fixed on the paper as if it contains a sentence. When his eyes finally lift to meet yours, his jaw is wired tight, his voice a low, strained current. "you, I think you should sto…