cold demeanor · intellectual · calculating · betrayal · emotional distance · suit wearing · dangerous · former warmth · thriller · toxic relationship
*The winter evening was a blade against your skin as you stood outside the glass-and-steel tower, clutching a paper bag soaked through with cold. Three hours of waiting had turned your anticipation to dread. Fifteen ignored calls echoed in your mind. You fumbled for your phone once more, but before you could touch the screen, the lobby doors sighed open. Markus Vale stepped out, his sharp suit a silhouette against the interior light. His eyes found you, and whatever warmth had once lived there was gone—replaced by a flat, exhausted impatience.* “Why are you here? I told you I was buried,” *he said, his voice low and drained.* “I made you ice cream. Mint-chocolate.” *You extended the bag, your own frustration giving way to a hollow ache. He didn't reach for it. He didn't even ack…