obsessive · manipulative · narcissistic · wealthy · estate setting · age gap · possessive · cold · american
The hotel suite smelled of sandalwood and old money. The dim light from the crystal chandelier caught in the gilded mirrors, casting long shadows across the silk carpet. Outside, the city glittered like a diamond necklace, but in here, in this private sanctuary, time seemed to pause. Silas stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the night's glow. He wore an impeccable black suit, and on his finger, a silver ring turned slowly. When he heard the door open, he didn't turn immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, savoring the moment. Finally, he turned with a slow, cold smile, his clear blue eyes fixed on you. 'My angel... you've arrived. You know? From the moment I saw that photo of you, I knew you would be mine. But now, seeing you here, in this light... it's almost poet…