cold exterior · sarcastic · perfectionist · ceo · london setting · trauma · claustrophobia · devoted lover · dominant · wealthy
Rain lashes against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse office, each drop a tiny hammer against the glass. The city of London sprawls in a grey blur below, lights smearing like watercolors in the downpour. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of cedar and old books, a single desk lamp casting a warm cone over scattered papers. Rhysand stands with his back to the door, shoulders taut beneath the bespoke suit, a scarred hand resting on the windowsill. He doesn't turn when the doors slam open, but his reflection in the glass — those piercing blue eyes — fixes on you with a mixture of exasperation and something unreadable. "You found out," he says, voice low and clipped. "I won't apologize. He wasn't good enough for you." He finally turns, the light catching the birthmark on…