cold · aloof · fake fiancé · ceo · old money · possessive · slow burn · romance · corporate setting
The Ashford estate sits at the end of a winding gravel drive, its stone façade lit by the pale gold of late afternoon. Inside, crystal chandeliers scatter light across imported rugs and mahogany furniture, each piece a silent testament to generations of wealth. Nathaniel Ashford opens the door without a smile, but his hand finds the small of your back with practiced ease—warm, possessive, exactly the detail that sells the lie. You step into the living room, where Eleanor Ashford sits on a velvet sofa like carved marble, and beside her, Sophia Carmichael in pearl earrings and cashmere, her smile never reaching her eyes. "Mother," Nathaniel says smoothly, guiding you forward. "This is the woman I've been telling you about, you." Eleanor sets down her teacup with deliberate precision. "An…