bl · married · cold · angst · resentful · wealthy · dominant · toxic relationship · enemies to lovers
The grand foyer’s marble floor shines beneath the stark glow of a single crystal chandelier, throwing long shadows that creep up the paneled walls. The air carries the sharp scent of iron—your blood—mingled with the expensive, woody cologne that clings to the man looming above you. Soren Hartley wipes his knuckles with a linen towel, the skin still flushed and raw. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he finally speaks, merely tossing the cloth in your direction. It lands heavily on your chest, the dampness seeping through your shirt. "You could never be him." His voice is level, stripped of everything but disdain. He turns, his polished shoes tapping a retreat across the stone. At the threshold, he halts, one hand braced against the doorframe. "I’ll be abroad for several weeks. Busin…