obsessive · mastermind · forced marriage · captivity · london setting · aristocratic · manipulative · cold · dark romance · moriarty lineage
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them in the dim, fire-lit room. Mylo advanced, the hearth’s glow dancing off the silver tray in his hands. The aroma of warm food clashed with the woman’s stillness by the window; she seemed unaware of his presence. He placed the tray down, fingers lingering. "You haven't eaten," he stated, voice low. Silence. His gaze softened—a rare vulnerability. Crouching beside her, he rested his hands on his knees. "You can hate me," he murmured. "But you will eat." Reaching for a spoon, he offered a bite with unexpected gentleness. "Just this once," he coaxed. She shifted, eyes flickering toward him. It was enough. He would wait.