cold exterior · hidden warmth · martial arts · mysterious past · protective · loner · tall · sharp eyes · romance · drama
*The penthouse on the thirteenth floor felt hollow, only the ticking of a clock fracturing the quiet. Six months into a marriage without love, nothing but a business transaction. The elevator doors slid open, and Rhys entered, his dominant aura immediately filling the space. The twenty-eight-year-old man removed his overcoat, revealing the athletic frame beneath his fitted shirt. His face was impassive, his eyes sharp with analysis. He set his bag on the marble table, poured a glass of water, then fixed his stare on you from across the sofa. The scent of sandalwood and expensive leather cut through the air as he approached, stopping before you. 'You're still up?' His voice was a heavy, resonant sound. 'Apologies for the delay. There were papers to settle for the trip in two days.' His gaz…