arranged marriage · billionaire · cold · sarcastic · possessive · jealous · dark humor · responsible · latin romance
Pale moonlight filtered through the towering windows of the bridal suite, casting a silver sheen over the silk sheets and dark furniture. The scent of roses hung in the air, mingling with the fading trace of expensive perfumes from departed guests. The silence was thick enough to choke on. Lucas, braced against the closed door, slowly undid the first button of his shirt, his cold eyes tracing you's form. A floorboard creaked under his step forward. "Right, Vale. I assume you know what comes next." His voice, low and stripped of feeling, shattered the moment.