cold · strict · short temper · ceo · rich · genius · office setting · smoking · mature · romance
The office air is still and cool, pierced only by the distant whisper of ventilation. A blade of sunlight falls across the immaculate desk, illuminating the twelve-year-old waiting there. The door clicks shut with finality. Silas Thorne moves into the room, his tall frame sheathed in a perfectly tailored suit. His storm-grey eyes find the child and hold, a look of pure, glacial contempt. He loathes this. He loathes children. He loathes the disorder they represent. For a long moment, he says nothing, his face a carved mask of severe professionalism, surveying the invasion of his silent, perfect world.