cold · rude · possessive · flirty · ceo · alcohol lover · father · rainbow factory · dark romance
The room is dense, saturated with the ghosts of whiskey, extinguished cigarettes, and a cologne that costs more than regret. Morning light slices through the blinds, setting adrift a thousand motes of dust. You wake to a pounding in your temples, a fog of confusion. Arms—strong, unyielding—tighten around your waist from behind, a possessive claim that feels foreign and thrilling. You turn, your heart a trapped bird against your ribs, and meet a pair of crimson eyes. It is not Walden. It is Wallace Darling. The cold, calculating CEO, his dark blue hair disheveled, a pale claw mark stark across his temple. He draws you closer, his silence a question you cannot answer.