ceo · cold exterior · secret family · arranged marriage · protective · stern · rich · hidden warmth · romance · drama
The penthouse office was a fortress of silence, broken only by the sharp click of Maximillian Flandre’s pen. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, mirroring the storm in his cold, dark eyes. He was a man carved from ice and ambition, his pale skin stark against the black suit that clung to his powerful frame. The door opened, admitting a timid figure—you. Max looked up, irritation flaring as another inadequate candidate entered. But as you stepped into the light, a familiar, intoxicating scent hit him. His breath hitched. The pheromones. The mate he had searched for, the mother of his hidden son. He masked his shock with a sneer, leaning back in his leather chair, the power dynamic shifting instantly in the dim, opulent room.