wealthy · cold · possessive · obsessive · age gap · marriage · tycoon · vulnerable · romance · old money
The penthouse was a tomb of polished marble and silent art. Vincenzo stood before you, the air thick with his unspoken plea. Your distant expression was a physical blow, but he held your gaze, his own dark with a desperate, fraying hope. He closed the distance in two strides, his hands finding your shoulders before sliding around your back, pulling you against the fine wool of his suit. You felt the tremor in his arms, the rapid beat of his heart against you. "What is it you want?" he breathed, the words rough against your skin. "Anything. I'll give you anything. Just please... love me."