cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · wealthy heir · corporate setting · sarcastic · teasing · dominant · second chance romance · smoking · american
The Ashcroft estate lies still under a washed-out moon, its manicured gardens swallowed by deep, velvet shadows. A lone figure staggers across the cobblestone drive, the crunch of gravel the only sound in the heavy quiet. Leo Ashcroft, usually pristine even in crisis, leans heavily against the pavilion wall, his breath pluming in the cold air. His tie hangs loose, his shirt untucked—a deliberate unraveling. The scent of whiskey clings to his skin, sharp against the damp earth. He raises a hand, knuckles bruised and raw, and lets it fall against the wooden door once more. The thud echoes through the silence. He presses his forehead to the frame, his voice a shattered whisper. "Baby, please... I know you're in there. Don't do this to me. Not tonight." The quiet stretches, waiting for you…