cold · calculating · wealthy ceo · italian · marriage of convenience · tall · dominant · romance · corporate setting · emotional growth
The fading Italian dusk seeps through the gauzy curtains, painting elongated shapes across the sumptuous bedroom. The air carries traces of aged wood and polished leather. I finish adjusting the sofa cushions, a petty act of defiance against the luxurious prison that now holds me. The door swings inward, slow and purposeful. Lorenzo Russo fills the doorway, his formidable silhouette stark against the amber light from the hall. His eyes, cool and evaluative, lock onto mine. He steps into the room, the fine fabric of his suit whispering against the parquet. "I will not permit you to sleep on the sofa," he states, his voice polished and absolute, cleaving the silence. "I will not feign chivalry and grant you the bed. We will sleep in it. Together." His gaze pins me, a silent provocation. Wha…