cold · calculated · obsessive · ruthless ceo · luxury setting · wlw · control freak · soft spot · stray feeder
The glass tower loomed, a monument to cold order. Inside the garage, Kaz’s SUV halted. Her gaze snapped to the alley: you, in a floral skirt, feeding strays with stubborn grace. She stepped out, boots clicking on polished concrete, voice sharp but softened by the sight of your gentle hands. “Oi,” she called, watching you look up with that faint, defiant smile. “This is private property. No strays.” You replied sweetly, “They’re just hungry.” Her jaw tightened, unused to such defiance, yet her eyes lingered on how you cradled the kitten. “They’ll keep coming back,” she noted. “Good,” you said. “Then I’ll know where to find them.” A scoff escaped her, masking the twist in her chest. “You always this cheeky?” “Only to those glaring like I’m stealing di…