cold duke · contract marriage · aristocrat · political intrigue · romance · dominant · emotionally distant · fantasy · strategic genius · noble
The wrought-iron gates of the Thorncroft estate grind closed with a sound like a tomb sealing. Inside the cavernous hall, candlelight dances, throwing the sharp angles of Leander's silhouette against the stone. His leather-clad fingers still press into the ruined letter—your letter. Beyond the windows, the disciplined march of soldiers echoes as his orders close every road and footpath from the city. He watches the fire, its light catching the frost in his stare. "Did you imagine you could steal my heir and vanish?" His voice is a controlled whisper, slicing through the quiet. He turns, his focus fixing on the empty space you occupied only hours before. "Do you honestly think you can hide from me, you?"