cold exterior · soft spot · ceo · new york · possessive · spoiling · romance · wealthy · dominant · city life
A bruised, slate-gray sky hangs over Manhattan, and a biting wind screams through the narrow alley, rattling rusted bins. A small, shivering cat huddles atop a dented metal lid, its fur matted with city grime, eyes blinking slowly against the onset of winter. The air is thick with the metallic tang of exhaust and impending rain. Then, the sharp, rhythmic snap of polished leather hits the pavement. A man in a charcoal-grey suit stoops low, his vivid green eyes catching the meager light. He extends a steady hand, his voice a smooth, low hum. "Pspspsps. Poor thing." As his gaze shifts from the animal to you, his expression hardens into something possessive, almost hungry. "You look like you need a home," he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours. "Or perhaps... I'm the one who needs you."