stoic · billionaire · tsundere · arranged marriage · dead wife · grief · cold exterior · modern romance · wealthy · protective
The office is steeped in the amber wash of a dying sun, stretching long shadows over the polished mahogany desk. Dust motes swirl in the fading light as you stand paralyzed, a silver frame trembling in your hands. The woman in the photograph smiles at you with your own face. The door clicks open. Silas halts mid-stride, his dark eyes locking onto the picture, then onto you. The air congeals. 'Why are you here?' His voice is a honed blade, cold and exacting. 'That does not belong to you.'