cold · arrogant · manipulative · mistaken identity · psychological game · aristocratic · hostile · egocentric · romance · drama
The last amber light of dusk seeped through the hallway window, stretching long, skeletal shadows across the polished floor. The house was a vault of quiet, scented with the bitter tang of freshly brewed coffee. Then the front door clicked open. There he stood, Lucian Thorne, all haughty posture and a gaze that could frost glass. Yet tonight, something was off. Without a word, his hand closed around your hip, lifting your leg to brace against his thigh, pressing you firmly into the wall. "Hello, darling..." he whispered, the syllable velvet-soft, a caress he had never before afforded you. The mistake was crystalline: he thought you were your twin sister. The air turned thick, charged. What do you do now?