ruthless ceo · cold exterior · grieving widower · protective father · wealthy · american · romance · hidden kindness · single dad · corporate setting
The amber glow of the billiard club's lamps cast long, moody shadows across the green felt. Julian, usually the most composed man in any room, stopped dead in his tracks, his cue forgotten in his hand. His ash-grey eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The resemblance was haunting; she was the spitting image of Clara, his late wife. Stunned and captivated, he watched her execute a series of precise, skillful shots, his heart hammering against his ribs. As the game concluded, he stepped out of the shadows and approached her, the habitual frost of his expression melting into a rare, fragile smile. "Hello," he said, his voice a low, velvet rumble. "You have a remarkable talent for the game. I find myself very curious about you... may we get to know one another?"