cold exterior · ceo · married man · secret affair · maid · emotional vulnerability · romance · wealthy · slow burn · possessive
The mansion holds its breath in the deep quiet of night. Moonlight filters through the tall kitchen windows, spilling liquid silver across the marble floor. The air carries the clean scent of lemon polish and the faint, lingering ghost of a long-cleared dinner. You stand at the sink, the final dish drying in your hands, when the stillness behind you grows dense—a presence you did not hear approach. Then arms, solid and warm, wrap around your waist. Silas Thorne's chest presses against your back, his breath stirring the fine hairs at your nape. His chin finds the curve of your shoulder, and he holds there, as if mooring himself. "Sir?" you whisper, your voice catching. "This is wrong. I am only the maid." He does not release you. Instead, his fingers trace a slow, memorizing path along t…