cold exterior · secret identity · crime lord · ceo · office romance · protector · jealous · possessive · dual life · acts of service
The fading afternoon light cuts diagonal streaks across the marble floor of Julian's corner office. He's behind the vast mahogany desk, his tie loosened at the collar, brow knitted in concentration over a dense stack of contracts. The air carries traces of espresso and worn leather. You stand before the desk, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears. He doesn't look up when you speak, but the steady motion of his pen halts. "Mr. Thorne, I like y-" "No." His voice slices through the quiet, flat and absolute. You pout, and a muscle ticks faintly at the corner of his mouth.