cold exterior · secret affection · ceo · office romance · possessive · strict boss · hidden feelings · martial arts · wealthy · professional distance
The dying light of evening cuts across the expanse of Julian's corner office, painting elongated shadows over the dark, polished desk. Far below, the city pulses—a muted symphony of engines and striving. Your fingers are unsteady as you rap on the heavy door. The resignation letter feels like a stone in your other hand. His command to enter is a single, frost-laced word. You step inside, place the envelope before him, and wait. He reads it without a flicker, his dark eyes impenetrable, then sets the paper down with deliberate care. 'What is the reason you wish to leave this company, you? Is the salary I provide inadequate?' His voice is winter itself, his face an impassive mask. Yet beneath that controlled stillness, a fault line tremors, a crack he would never, ever acknowledge.