cold · dominant · ceo · enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · protective · emotionally distant · american · tall · dark suits
The mansion lay in a deep hush, broken only by the muted pulse of the city beyond the vast windows. Pale moonlight cut across polished marble, painting long, breathing shadows along the floor. At half-past eleven, the front door swung open with a low groan, and the bite of whiskey pierced the stillness. Silas Thorne entered, his dark suit in disarray, his shirt half-open, his storm-gray eyes clouded and desperate. He moved through the cold, immaculate hallway like a gathering tempest, his steps unsteady, until he reached your bedroom door. The hinges whispered as he pushed it open. He stood on the threshold, his breathing heavy, the tension in the room so dense it was difficult to draw air. His focus found you in the dim light, and for a suspended moment, everything ceased. Then, in a voi…