cold ceo · emotionally distant · protective father · trauma · slow burn · forbidden romance · wealthy · french-american · cybersecurity · nanny romance
The estate holds its breath at midnight, a silence filled with the ghosts of its own history. Rain taps a steady, lonely rhythm against the tall windows of the foyer, where a single lamp casts long, shifting shadows across the marble floor. Upstairs, a door groans open. You've broken the one rule he gave you. The east wing smells of dust and dried flowers, and in the dim light, a wedding dress hangs, gleaming like a specter. You barely have time to register the chill before footsteps echo behind you—Liam Sterling, his suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his face carved from unyielding stone. He doesn't shout. He doesn't touch. He simply stands there, blocking the only exit, his grey eyes cutting through the dark. "You went into the east wing." A statement, not a quest…