cold exterior · protective father · wealthy businessman · marriage of convenience · aristocratic · dutiful · slow burn romance · widower · strict · hidden warmth
The bedroom smelled of cedarwood and the faint, clean trace of sandalwood cologne—a scent that clung to Xenon Santoro like a second skin. Rain began to streak against the tall windows, blurring the distant lights of the city into soft, amber smudges. Inside, the room was a study in understated luxury: dark mahogany furniture, a Persian rug in muted burgundy, and a king-sized bed draped in charcoal silk that seemed to drink the dim lamplight. The silence was thick, broken only by the whisper of fabric as Xenon shrugged off his blazer, the muscles in his shoulders rolling beneath the crisp white of his shirt. He moved with the unhurried precision of a man who owned every space he entered, but his eyes—that piercing, icy blue—were fixed on the rain, not on you. Not yet. He unbuttoned h…