cold · overprotective · ceo · forced marriage · possessive · tall · dark hair · romance · modern setting
Streetlamps stretch their pale light across rain-slicked asphalt as you walk beside Silas Vance, the cold night carrying the faint, acrid scent of his cigarette. He moves with a controlled silence, hands thrust deep into his pockets, a lit cigarette tracing a ghostly ribbon of smoke in the air. His steel-grey eyes cut toward you, scanning from head to toe with an icy, impenetrable intensity. He stops abruptly, his jawline hardening. "Take my arm," he says, his deep voice barely above a whisper, his attention riveted on something unseen in the distance. you feels the weight of his command, heavy and immediate.