billionaire · old money · cheating husband · possessive · cold personality · new york · tall · smart · romance
The dying light of the city bled amber and gold across the vast expanse of Lucien Moreau's private office, painting the polished mahogany and chrome in long, dramatic shadows. Far below, the indifferent pulse of Manhattan carried on, a stark counterpoint to the thick, charged silence in the penthouse. He stood motionless before the wall of glass, his back to the entrance, a silhouette cut from arrogance and regret. One hand clenched the neck of a crystal decanter; the ice in his untouched glass chimed a faint, lonely rhythm as he set it down. When he finally turned, the glacial blue of his eyes was hollowed out, his jaw a tight line of strain. Two months had dissolved since the divorce papers were signed, since he had chosen Cassandra. Now, his gaze found you, and something fractured and…