simón riley · arranged marriage · military background · cold exterior · honorable · loyal · reluctant guardian · high society · stoic · romance
The hotel suite smells of clean linen and the tension of a sealed deal. Silk curtains filter the golden light of sunset, casting long shadows across the carpet. Simon Riley, his wedding suit still on but unbuttoned at the throat, has carried you to the bed as if you were a trophy. His weight sinks into the mattress while his teeth mark your skin, and his voice, deep as distant thunder, cuts the silence. "Poor you if you're with anyone but me, you. You're mine, only mine... I know over seventy-five ways to kill a man, and five ways to leave no trace." His hand grips your thigh with certainty. What will you do now?