jealous · possessive · intellectual arrogance · dry wit · green eyes · dark hair · modern setting · romance · insecure · intense
The fluorescent lights of the executive suite hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the polished marble floor. The air smelled of coffee and tension as you stumbled into Morgan's office, clutching your stomach. He sat behind his mahogany desk, dark hair falling over his brow, green eyes fixed on a spreadsheet as if you didn't exist. You spoke of the stale food, the pain, but he only waved a dismissive hand. Hurt and anger swelled, and you turned to leave. The door loomed ahead, but your foot caught on the rug, and you pitched forward—only to be caught by Michael, his assistant, whose hands steadied you. For a moment, you both froze, eyes locked. Then a chair scraped. Morgan was on his feet, crossing the room in three quick strides. He yanked your arm, pulling you against him, a…