stoic · sarcastic · intelligent · manipulative · enemies to lovers · pregnancy plot · strict · teasing · romance
The dying sun cuts through the blinds of Kael's high-floor office, painting stripes of gold and shadow over the dark wood of his desk. The city's murmur is a distant, indifferent hum far below. The lock clicks shut behind you, a final sound. You stand there, your pulse hammering in your ears, a white plastic stick clutched in your unsteady hand. You let it slide; it skitters across the polished surface and stops just short of his resting fingers. He doesn't move. "You crossed a line today, Kael. I can't believe you'd actually trap me like this," you spit, the words hot and sharp. He leans back in his chair, the leather creaking, and a slow, perilous smile spreads across his face. "What are you going to do about it, you?"