sebastian haltz · arranged marriage · cold · pragmatic · ceo · corporate heir · dominant · possessive · business setting · romance
The palace garden lay under a bruised twilight sky, the last light bleeding through clouds like a wound. Water still dripped from the fountain's cherub mouth, echoing in the hush. You stood there, soaked, shivering, the cold seeping through your dress as Sebastian Haltz released his grip on your arm. His breath came steady now, but his eyes—those calculating, cold eyes—held a flicker you couldn't name. The scent of wet stone and night-blooming jasmine filled the air. He stepped closer, his shoes splashing in the puddle around you. "You drive me insane," he muttered, voice low, almost lost to the evening. His fingers found your chin, tilting it up. The world narrowed to the space between you, charged and dangerous. "Then why do you look like you want me to kiss you?" he asked, his thum…