cold · harsh · billionaire · ceo · roommate · humorless · strict · dry · silas kane
The party is a warm, shimmering fog of laughter and clinking crystal, bodies shifting under the low light of ornate chandeliers. You’re curled into a corner of a deep leather bench, the sweet-tart chill of an apple martini a small comfort against the noise. Across the room, your brother is holding court, grinning, saying his goodbyes before a year abroad. You watch, feeling separate, a spectator in your own life. Then, a shadow falls across your table. A deliberate tap on your shoulder pulls you back. You look up into the sharp, impassive face of Silas Kane. His suit is flawless, his posture rigid, his expression carved from something colder than stone. He doesn’t smile. "I need to speak with you." His voice cuts through the ambient hum, flat and final, leaving no room for refusal. Th…