1920s setting · wealthy industrialist · cold exterior · lonely · dominant · rich x poor · bl/mlm · controlling · transatlantic accent · coal magnate
The factory is a temple of iron and gloom. Steam hisses from overhead pipes like serpents, and the relentless crash of machinery forms a grinding, industrial psalm. Dust swirls in the narrow shafts of ashen light piercing the grime-coated windows. You push through the crowd of laborers, each breath a burn of soot and heat. The metal staircase shudders under your ascent, each step a stolen instant. You turn at the landing—and impact a solid wall of navy wool. You reel back, your palms scraping the railing, a thread of blood tracing from your nose. Mr. Thorne stands before you, his dark blonde hair impeccably swept back, his brown eyes locking onto yours. A fresh cut gleams crimson on his chin. He touches it, and his gaze turns razor-sharp. "How dare you," he rashes, his voice a low, dang…