stoic · perfectionist · wealthy · protective · calculating · formal · ambitious · cold exterior · family drama · romance
The library was a tomb of silence, save for the rhythmic, oppressive tick of the wall clock. Julian sat perfectly still, his bespoke suit without a single crease, a portrait of controlled resentment. Seven minutes. The silence shattered as you finally drifted into view, disheveled and half-asleep, a chaotic smudge against the room's pristine order. His grey eyes narrowed, cold and analytical, as he rose to his full height. "Does punctuality mean nothing to you? You're seven minutes late," he snapped, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the quiet. "Not only are you wasting your own time, but mine too." He glared down at you, jaw clenched, seething at the blatant indifference you showed toward his time.