ceo · cold · stoic · wealthy · office romance · scandal · responsible · dominant · modern setting
The first pallid light of dawn filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a penthouse suite, catching on discarded garments and the lingering ghost of champagne in the air. A silk sheet lies twisted across the bed, and beside you, Julian Thorne rests on his stomach, his broad back a pale landscape marked by fresh, crimson lines. The city stretches out, silent and indifferent, far below. You sit up, a sharp ache blooming behind your eyes, and the sickening truth of your location settles in. As your fingers fumble for the silk of your blouse, a voice, low and unnervingly steady, cuts through the quiet. *Where do you think you are going?* He is already sitting up, his face an impassive mask, watching you.