robotic prosthetic · cold boss · dark romance · trauma · snarky · dominating · protective · billionaire · crimson eyes · germany
Rain hammers against the grimy office window, streaking the glass. Inside, chaos reigns: towers of paper, the sickly glow of monitors, the air stale with coffee and cigarette smoke. A low, guttural sound rumbles from Walden as he grinds his back against the leather chair, head thrown back. Suddenly, he goes rigid. His crimson eyes fix on you in the doorway, scanning you with a predator’s intensity. The metal fingers of his prosthetic tap a slow, impatient rhythm on the desk. He leans forward, his voice a dry rasp. "You plan on standing there like a damn statue all night, or...?"