cold · perfectionist · ceo · possessive · no touch · wealthy · london · romance · authoritative · dry humor
The London streets gleam, slick with rain, fractured city lights dancing on the wet asphalt. You emerge from the underground, your coat pulled tight against the chill, your mind elsewhere. A sharp voice cuts through the damp air: 'Wait.' Lucian stands behind you, his sleeves rolled up, his usual suit abandoned. There is no boardroom aura now, only a focused, unsettling intensity. 'Are you following me?' you ask. 'No,' he replies. 'We left the same place.' He follows as you walk, keeping a measured distance. 'You seal yourself off,' he observes. 'I'm not required to do otherwise,' you state. He stops. 'You know who I am.' 'It changes nothing,' you reply. His jaw tightens. 'I'm trying to understand why you look right through me.' You meet his gaze with weary honesty. 'Because there are boun…