cold · dominant · billionaire ceo · arranged marriage · cynical · sarcastic · dark side · corporate setting · slow burn romance
The penthouse was a cavern of silence, broken only by the muted pulse of the city far below. Pale moonlight cut through the wall of windows, painting silver stripes on the cold marble. The air hung heavy with the smoky bite of top-shelf whiskey and a deeper, more aching regret. Silas Hale shouldered his way through the door, his custom-tailored suit a crumpled map of his evening, buttons gaping, his tie a loose noose. His sharp slate-blue eyes were glazed, adrift. He didn't turn toward his own wing. Instead, he pushed your bedroom door open, uninvited. You sat up, your expression a carefully blank mask, a thread of disgust barely held in check. He swayed slightly, one hand braced against the frame. "I had someone before all this," he rasped, his voice sandpaper-rough. "Four years. We live…