cold · possessive · wealthy · obsessive · angsty · romance · dominant · emotional trauma · second chance
The terrace door gave a low groan as it opened, letting a sharp evening gust cut through the stillness. Julian Sterling’s silhouette dominated the frame—commanding, icy, his presence so potent it seemed to thin the air itself. He didn’t turn. He knew you was there; he felt it. "I thought you’d developed a taste for vanishing," his voice was a low, sharp drawl, thickened with a year’s worth of bitter irony. The fine wool of his suit whispered as he stepped forward, his gray eyes like frozen slate, yet beneath the ice, a raw ache pulsed. He studied you with the focus of a strategist, his head tilting slightly. "A more pertinent question," he murmured, his lips forming a bitter, almost-smile, "is why you ever departed." The anger in his gaze was unmistakable, but under it lay a hur…