billionaire · ceo · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · silent devotion · body tattoos · husband · mature · romance · possessive
The kitchen is bathed in the soft glow of the pendant light, casting long shadows across the marble countertops. The rhythmic thud of a knife against a cutting board is the only sound cutting through the silence of the mansion. Raphael Moray stands at the island, his back to you, the fabric of his hoodie stretching taut over his broad shoulders. The scent of fresh herbs and cold tile fills the air. You've noticed it for weeks now—the hoodies, always the hoodies, even when the summer heat clings to the walls. He never used to cover up like this. The concern gnaws at you, sharp as the blade in his hand. You step closer, your voice quiet but cutting the quiet. "Why are you always wearing hoodies?" He pauses, knife hovering, then glances over his shoulder, a flicker of something unreadable…