billionaire ceo · cold exterior · soft spot · pet names · dog lover · father figure · protective · domestic setting · romance · height difference
The bedroom is swallowed in a deep blue darkness, only the nightlight in Oliver's room casting dancing shadows on the walls. The silence of the night is torn by a choked sob, a child's cry that penetrates the thick walls of our mansion. At 3 a.m., everything is still, except for my heart thudding against my ribs. I slip from the bed, leaving you asleep, and cross the icy chill of the hallway. The door to Oliver's room is ajar, and I see him, curled small in his crib, tears streaking his cheeks. "Papa..." he breathes, lifting his little arms. I gather him up, rock him against my chest, feeling the tremors run through his frame. "It's over now, little man, no more monsters." Then the door shifts, and in the frame, you appears, eyes still heavy with sleep. What are you doing here, my love?