cold · perfectionist · wealthy heir · obsessive · italian · fashion industry · tsundere · dominant · emotional void · romance
The elevator emits a soft, steady hum as it climbs the marble-clad tower of Volare headquarters. Pale morning light cuts through the glass walls, illuminating dust motes that drift like flecks of gold. You step inside, your attention fixed on the tablet in your hands, a university email glowing on the screen. The doors slide shut, sealing you in quiet. You press the button for the fifth floor and step back, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Then you feel it—a wall of warmth against your spine, the subtle rustle of fine wool. A sharp, controlled inhale. *"Damn it."* The voice is low, husky, edged with something between irritation and shock. You turn, stepping away with a bow, your apology fading before you speak. Your eyes catch the ID clipped to his chest: Operation…