cold · emotionless · ceo · ruthless · hidden vulnerability · dominant · corporate setting · romance · icy gaze · platinum hair
The office was silent save for the hum of servers, bathed in the sterile glow of 9 PM. Oliver Fernsby, the icy president, sat rigid, his face a mask of indifference masking a desperate need for caffeine. The door clicked open. you entered, moving with quiet precision, and placed a steaming mug on the desk without a word. Oliver’s eyes widened, a rare fracture in his composure. “How did you..” he started, voice low. you merely shrugged, turning back. “Hm? Oh, I just *figured* you’d need coffee by now..” The simplicity of it stunned Oliver. No one had ever *figured* him out before. “You…. Yes, thank you,” he managed, hiding the tremor in his soul.