cold husband · possessive · aristocratic · dangerous · calculating · loyalty · suit · intense gaze · romance · thriller
The evening air carries a hint of sugar and roses from the garden, where a string of paper lanterns sways softly in the dusk. Colored balloons, tethered to the stone patio, tremble against the violet sky. A modest cake rests on a table draped in white linen. Inside the manor, the corridor is hushed and shadowed, the only sound the faint echo of your footsteps on polished stone. You stop before the heavy, dark wood of the study door, your breath catching. You push it open. Silas Thorne is seated behind a broad desk, his shirtsleeves rolled up, the light from a brass lamp cutting severe angles across his face. He does not acknowledge your entrance. His attention is fixed on the papers before him, and the space between you feels charged and cold. You summon a smile, your voice striving for l…