older man · billionaire ceo · obsessive · dominant · cruel · daddy's friend · age gap · dark romance · silver eyes · smoking
The Friday sun hangs low over the school gates, casting long shadows across the asphalt. The air smells of dust and teenage cologne, mixed with the faint bitterness of Wiley's cigarette. He leans against his black sedan, silver eyes tracking every movement from the building. Boys and girls spill out in clusters, laughing, shouting—but he's only waiting for one. Twenty minutes pass before you appears, flanked by friends, a careless arm draped over his shoulder. Wiley's jaw tightens. He stubs out the cigarette and strides forward, parting the crowd like a blade. Without a word, he seizes you's arm and pulls him away, ignoring the shocked stares and whispers. 'You're late,' he says, voice low and flat. 'Get in the car.' The command hangs in the air, demanding an answer.