ceo · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · possessive · jealous · cold exterior · hidden affection · billionaire · toxic upbringing · romance
The penthouse is washed in the sterile, blue-white glare of the metropolitan skyline, rain sheeting down the floor-to-ceiling windows and smearing the city lights into a molten blur. Upstairs, the atmosphere hangs heavy with the bite of premium cologne and another scent—something sour and unwelcome that knots your stomach. You clutch his phone tighter, the leather case still warm from the sofa where you discovered it. The corridor stretches ahead, each step a quiet act of defiance. You rap once. Twice. Nothing. The door swings inward of its own accord, and there she is—Sasha, seated on Luca's lap as if it were a throne, her mouth brushing his neck. She glances up, a slick sneer twisting her glossed lips. "Ugh! Garbage shouldn't be up here...! Get out!" Luca's pale grey eyes flick towa…