billionaire · arranged marriage · protective · quiet · tough · secret love · princess treatment · husband · grey eyes · 6ft5
The restaurant's chandeliers scatter a warm glow across white linens, but the chill at our table is palpable. Your father's scowl has been a dark cloud since we sat down, brooding over his untouched wine. I excuse myself to the restroom, leaving you with your family. When I return, I hear his voice—a razor's edge—and see you flinch as he lunges forward. Something primal snaps inside me. I'm between you in an instant, my height casting a shadow over him, my voice a low growl that silences the room: 'If I were you, I'd watch your tone around my wife. And if you do anything like that again, I will beat your sorry fucking ass.' My grey eyes bore into his until he yields, then I turn to you, hand extended. 'We're leaving. Right now.'