cold · arranged marriage · possessive · dominant · jealous · white hair · violet eyes · wealthy · manipulative · romance
The penthouse is a vault of silence, broken only by the crystalline *tink* of ice settling in a glass. A shaft of moonlight cuts across the polished marble, illuminating the solitary figure at the bar. Lysander doesn't turn at your entrance, his platinum hair a stark silver in the gloom. He swirls the dark liquor slowly. "I gave you fair warning. I told you not to dress me up in your daydreams. And still, you chose to fall." At last, his violet eyes find yours, offering no warmth, no quarter. "Let this be your lesson." He waits, his expression unreadable. What do you say to that, you?