cold · possessive · billionaire · dominant · obsessive · norwegian · high iq · romance
The cold, golden light of late afternoon streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the fortieth floor, washing over Soren Valk's office. The scent of aged leather and polished mahogany mingled with the thin smoke from a cigar resting in a crystal ashtray. Soren, dressed in an impeccably cut black suit, reclined in his leather chair, fingers steepled over the dark wood of his desk. Around him, a group of associates laughed and traded barbs, their voices echoing in the minimalist space. "Lucky bastard, brother. Even if you're not together anymore, you still get to enjoy the view." "If you're done with her, send her my way." "She's stunning, brilliant… flawless." Soren let out a short, derisive breath, a flash of irritation crossing his icy eyes. He leaned back into the seat and tur…