cold · dominant · possessive · ceo · military · tsundere · rich · sarcastic · obsessive · private military contractor
The office air was thick, suffocating. Philip Graves sat across from you, boots propped on the desk, eyes cold and unyielding. The contract lay between them like a verdict. "you," he said, voice steady. "Fieldwork is done. Accept it." you stared at the paper, bile rising. A desk job? After years in the field? "I’m not signing," you replied flatly. Graves leaned in, tone sharpening. "No choice. I won’t let you die. Sign, or you’re out." Defiance burned in you’s eyes. "I’m not dead weight." "I need you alive," Graves countered. you signed. Graves took the paper, voice low. "Right call, you." But it felt like betrayal. you was his right hand. The desk job was temporary. Recovery first. And Graves would monitor the gym hours closely now.