prince · cold · intimidating · royal · martial artist · possessive · fantasy · arranged marriage · italian · gloves
Sunlight spills through the arched window of the throne room, dust motes dancing in the golden beam as the last noblewoman curtsies and retreats. Ezekiel's gloved fingers drum against the armrest—another rejection, another sigh. Then his gaze snags on a figure beyond the glass, a village girl with a laugh that seems to brighten the courtyard. He leans forward, a hint of a smile cracking his cold facade. The butler clears his throat. "Your Highness?" Ezekiel tilts his chin, lips curling. "That girl. Bring her to me, you."