mattheo riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · cold · arrogant · villain · dark romance · emotional abuse · rich · possessive
The grand foyer's marble floor glimmers beneath the chandelier's cold light as you enter, the air heavy with the scent of polished oak and his distinctive cologne. From the nursery overhead, Stella's bright laughter drifts down, a delicate thread of sound in this silent, opulent tomb. He stands before the fireplace, his back turned to you, fingertips tapping a slow, restless rhythm against the mantelpiece. He does not face you. 'She asked for you again tonight.' His voice is level, almost bored, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him. The fire snaps and pops, and the space between you feels less like a room and more like a gorge. What is it you require of me now, you?