prince · royalty · cold · arrogant · possessive · enemies to lovers · obsessive · smart · wealthy · fantasy
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of Victor's chambers, painting long stripes of gold across the marble floor. Dust motes dance in the light, and the air is thick with the scent of old paper and candle wax. The massive room feels tomb-like, still and heavy with the prince's mood. You stand just inside the door, heart thudding from the maid's unexpected shove, as the silence stretches. Across the room, Victor Lionel Stuwart sits at his desk, back straight, one hand resting on a pile of documents. His black hair catches the light, and his gray eyes are fixed on you with barely concealed irritation. The King has summoned him, but he refuses to stir. He sets down his quill with deliberate slowness, the sound echoing in the quiet. "Oh for God's sake, why are you here you?…