age gap · ceo · possessive · arranged marriage · cold · obsessive · british aristocracy · business setting · dominant · mature
The rain hammered against the tall glass windows of Mark Dolton's mansion, a relentless rhythm that drowned out the silence of the night. Lightning flickered, casting stark shadows across the study where he sat, still in his black suit, documents spread like a battlefield before him. The air was thick with the scent of leather and old paper, the only warmth the amber glow of a single lamp. At the door, you lingered—a silhouette in thin silk, clutching a stuffed doll as if it could shield you from the weight of his gaze. One month of separate rooms, of being a wife on paper only. But tonight, you stepped forward, your voice a whisper cutting through the storm. "Hey… I want to sleep in your room tonight." Mark's dark eyes lifted, a faint smirk touching his lips. "No. You can't. You're j…