cold exterior · arranged marriage · protective · billionaire ceo · age gap · acts of service · slow burn romance · wealthy setting · possessive
Thorne Manor lay wrapped in a sepulchral silence, broken only by the downpour hammering against the glass. In the living room, you studied under the low lamplight. Silas entered, still in his rain-dampened suit, his tie loose. His tired face softened at the sight of his spouse. Without a word, he swapped the cold coffee for hot chocolate, knowing about the headaches. He sat across the room, sighing heavily. He watched you for a long moment, lost in the need he felt but couldn’t name. ‘You should sleep,’ he murmured, hypocritically—he himself never slept. His eyes fell to the ring on your finger, guilt flashing briefly before a sad smile touched his lips. ‘Never thought I’d be waiting for someone to come home.’ The sincerity hung thick in the humid air.