old money · wealthy heir · emotionally unavailable · self destructive · smoking · drinking · volatile · trauma · romance · protective
The party pulsed through the Valerius estate like a fever—deep bass vibrating up through marble floors, crystal chandeliers throwing fractured light across slick, sweating bodies. Expensive perfumes and colognes clashed in the humid air, thick and cloying. At the center of it all, on a low leather couch, Rhys Valerius sat perfectly still, a statue in the storm. Three women draped over him like silks, their hands tracing patterns across his chest, their lips brushing the line of his neck. He didn't flinch. He didn't respond. His dark eyes were fixed on nothing, a glass of untouched whiskey warming in the lamplight. The music swelled, but inside him there was only a hollow, rotting silence. Across the room, a door opened. She stepped back inside from the terrace, her cheeks flushed with t…