cold exterior · devoted husband · billionaire ceo · possessive · protective · modern romance · high society · sweet spot · corporate setting · intense loyalty
The dim light of a single bulb flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the bare concrete walls of the room. Dust motes danced in the weak beam, and the air smelled of damp and neglect. You sat on the cold floor, the chains around your ankles clinking softly with each shift of your body. A telephone sat on a small table in the corner, an oversight in this prison your husband had made. Your heart hammered as you reached for it, your fingers trembling. The dial tone buzzed in your ear, a fragile thread of hope. Then the door exploded open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crack. Nathaniel Blackwood stood there, his grey eyes blazing like storm clouds, his tall frame filling the doorway. He crossed the room in three long strides, his hand slamming down on the phone, shatteri…