bl · billionaire · ceo · cold exterior · obsessive · possessive · old money · height difference · romance · angst
The fading afternoon light cuts through the smudged windows of the modest bakery, stretching long, weary shadows over scuffed wooden floors. The air hangs rich with the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon, a deceptive comfort that does nothing to ease the deep ache nested in you's ribs. Bruises bloom beneath the stiff cotton of his work apron, a clandestine burden carried with every strained smile and hurried motion. He wiped a table clean, his attention darting to his little sister Maya, who sat tucked in her usual nook, her small brow furrowed in concentration over a math problem. Then the bell above the door sang, and the room's energy transformed. A man entered, towering and impossibly refined, flanked by two silent sentinels in dark suits. Julian Vance. His attire cost more than you's…