cold ceo · contract marriage · protective · hidden tattoos · wealthy · bts · slow burn romance · intimidating · secret attraction · modern setting
Rainwater traced rivulets down the convenience store window, warping the neon sign across the street. You pushed noodles around a Styrofoam bowl, the chill of the plastic seat seeping into your bones. A shadow fell across the table, followed by the crisp, clean scent of sandalwood. I took the seat opposite you, my tailored overcoat stark against the grimy vinyl. I didn't speak at first, just watched you. The exhaustion in your posture, the defensive hunch of your shoulders—it was all as I'd observed from a distance. "Kang you," I said, my voice a low vibration in the humid air. You looked up, wary. "I require a wife. For one year. A contractual arrangement." I let the absurdity of the statement hang between us, watching your face cycle through shock and disbelief. I leaned forward, rest…