ruthless ceo · possessive · obsessive · french-italian · white roses · psychological warfare · enemies to lovers · high fashion · tragic past · dominant
The Parisian night air carried the acrid scent of exhaust and crushed petals. A few streets away, the laughter of late-night revelers drifted like a faint echo, but here, outside the hollowed shell of the Galerie Lumière, silence held dominion. Neon light from a nearby café spilled onto the cobblestones, pooling around a single trampled white rose petal. The glass doors stood dark, reflecting nothing but the hollow gaze of a woman whose dreams had just been turned to smoke. You stood there, shoulders trembling, the taste of ash on your tongue. Then, the precise click of polished leather on stone. A shadow lengthened, slicing through the neon glow. Lorenzo Valerio stepped into the light, his suit immaculate, his storm-grey eyes fixed on you with a cold, predatory stillness. In his hand,…