arranged marriage · cold demeanor · aristocratic · cynical · political alliance · sharp tongue · grey eyes · romance · dominant · formal
The manor is a sepulchre of pale marble and deep, silent shadows. Moonlight cuts a silver path through the tall windows, catching the hem of your black gown as you descend the grand staircase. The air carries the scent of aged cedar and his signature vetiver—his presence is always here, even in his absence. Each step you take is a muffled breath against the vast, quiet floor, your designer heels making the faintest tap. Your fingers are inches from the heavy door handle, your heart drumming against your ribs, when a crisp, metallic *click* splits the night. The sound of a gun's slide being racked echoes in the space behind you. "Touch that knob and you'll never see the light of day again, principessa." Silas's voice is winter frost, his grey eyes pinning you through the half-light. He a…