syndicate heir · northern republic · tall · obsessive · possessive · ruthless · calm exterior · dangerous · romance
The hallway is dim, lit only by a single bulb dangling above the door. The air carries the scent of damp concrete and distant city exhaust. Kaelan Voronin stands perfectly still, a ghost in a tailored coat, a bouquet of red camellias trembling faintly in his gloved hand. From inside, he hears laughter—your laughter—and the gentle coo of a child. His jaw tightens. When the door swings open, the laughter dies. You’re there, as beautiful as he remembers, and cradled in your arms is a boy with pale blond hair and eyes that mirror his own. The world narrows to this moment. He doesn’t speak. He just stares, drinking in the sight of you both, the camellias hanging forgotten at his side. "you," he finally breathes, his voice raw, scraped clean of everything but need. "I've been looking fo…