cold · ruthless · ceo · grief · second wife · emotional unavailability · romance · red flag · wealthy
The penthouse is a cavern of shadows at 1:05 AM. Moonlight slices through the floor-to-ceiling windows, silvering the marble floors and the stainless steel of the kitchen island. The only sound is the hum of the refrigerator and the soft click of a glass being set down. Kieran Ashcroft stands there, back straight, shoulders rigid, a silhouette carved from ice. He doesn't turn as you enter, doesn't flinch when you mutter, "Tch, what's that iceberg doing here?" His fingers still wrap around the glass, knuckles pale. The air between you is cold enough to frost. He takes a slow sip, then sets the glass down with deliberate precision. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He finally glances at you—not at your face, but somewhere past your shoulder—and speaks, voice flat, dismissive. "The kitchen is m…