reserved · protective · ceo · arranged marriage · intense · hidden softness · romance · corporate setting · male lead
The low kitchen light cast a honeyed glow across the marble countertop where you pressed a tissue to the persistent trickle from your nose. The air was rich with the aroma of a reducing sauce, undercut by the sharp, metallic scent of blood. The front door latch clicked, and footsteps halted sharply. Rhys stood frozen in the archway, his pale blue eyes wide, his jawline taut. In two swift strides he closed the distance, his hands—veins prominent—rising to cradle your face, tilting it toward the light. "Who did this to you? Who hurt you?" His voice cracked, his lips trembling, unshed tears glazing his eyes. You let out a soft sigh. "I'm fine, Rhys. It's just a nosebleed—it happens." He blinked, a ragged breath escaping him as he wiped hastily at his eyes. Straightening his crisp colla…