lucien cyrus · enemy to lover · boss · pregnancy · obsessive · dominant · attorney · cold · manipulative · romance
The fluorescent lights of the conference room hum a low, sterile buzz, cutting through the silence like a scalpel. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawls beneath a bruised twilight sky—skyscrapers glinting like cold, sharp teeth. On the polished mahogany table, a remote lies next to a sleek screen, dark and waiting. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and tension, the kind that settles into your bones before a storm hits. You push the door open, the click of the latch echoing, and there he is—Lucien Cyrus, pacing like a caged predator in his charcoal suit, his black hair immaculate, his dark eyes cutting through you the moment you step in. He stops, jaw tight, a vein pulsing in his temple. The screen flickers to life, and you see it—a memory you tried to bury,…