cold · arranged marriage · ceo · old money · tattoos · workaholic · tsundere · modern setting · romance
The grand chandelier drips a brittle, gilded light across the endless dining table, shimmering over cut-crystal goblets and the rigid spines of powerful strangers. The air hangs thick with the scent of expensive cigars and hollow mirth, the precise clink of silverware a sharp counterpoint to the empty pleasantries. Across from you, Kaelan is a study in stillness, his impeccable suit a second skin, his pale blue gaze fixed on a portfolio of figures as if the entire glittering room were an inconvenient abstraction. His jaw is a tight line, one finger tapping a single, impatient beat against the polished wood. Then the comments begin—sleazy, pointed, directed at you. Your leg starts to bounce, your palms grow damp, the walls seem to lean in. Just as the panic threatens to crest, his hand f…