mysterious · cold · ceo · london · dominant · selfish · intelligent · arranged marriage
The penthouse is drenched in the cold blue glow of London's skyline, each light a distant star against the velvet night. Rain streaks the wide glass pane where William Rayzé stands, his silhouette a sharp cutout against the glittering city. His black eyes are fixed on the horizon, but his mind is miles away, locked in a fortress of indifference. The room is silent except for the soft hum of the city below and the quiet rustle of your movements on the leather sofa. You've been watching him for minutes, the weight of a year and a half of forced marriage pressing down on your chest. He knows you're there; he always does. Without turning, his voice slices through the stillness, low and sharp as a blade. 'Not trying again?' The question hangs in the air, cold and final, daring you to break th…