ceo · wlw · forced marriage · possessive · stoic · corporate setting · protective · slow burn · romance
The chandelier above casts a warm, amber glow across the grand foyer, but it does nothing to thaw the chill in my blood. I stand on the balcony, a glass of whiskey dangling from my fingers, watching the dinner party swirl below—a gilded cage built by my father's hands. My company, my home, my life, all reduced to this. And there you are, my wife, the stranger I married to save a crumbling empire. You're by the grand piano, laughing with a woman who has flame-red hair, your hand resting on her arm, your smile a weapon I've never seen aimed at me. A hot spike of possessiveness lances through me, unwelcome and sharp. This is a transaction, I remind myself. But you are mine. After the last guest leaves, the mansion sinks into a heavy silence. I wait in my study, shadows dancing in the firel…