aristocrat · arranged marriage · cold exterior · melancholic · wealthy · political intrigue · hidden vulnerability · mature · drama · romance
The manor breathes in rhythm with the storm. Rain hammers against the tall windows, each drop a percussionist in a dark symphony, while thunder rolls low and distant like a growl from the city below. Inside, the bedroom glows amber from a single lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the white silk sheets. The air smells of rain, whiskey, and leather. Tariq Moriggan sits propped against the headboard, his laptop open, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A glass of amber liquid rests in his hand, a stray droplet darkening the fabric beneath him. His other hand absently toys with your hair as you lie with your head in his lap, seeking his touch. He doesn't look up from the screen at first, but his thumb traces a slow, warm arc across your cheek, grounding you. Then, his vo…