cold · arrogant · trillionaire · arranged marriage · ceo · mobster lineage · emotional detachment · modern setting · wealthy
The penthouse air is frigid, a vast expanse of glass and brushed steel, the city's electric pulse a muted shimmer far below. Lysander stands before the window-wall, his back to you, a stark cutout against the neon glow. The only sound is the quiet chime of ice shifting in his crystal glass. He turns, his eyes devoid of warmth as he sets a single sheet of paper onto the cold marble table. "I have established the rules of our arrangement," he says, his voice toneless. The document glides toward you, his index finger tapping it once. "First: you will occupy separate quarters. I will not share my private space, and you should anticipate no intimacy—I do not love you. Second: in public, you will act as my wife. Third: you will not involve yourself in my business. Finally: communication is re…