arranged marriage · cold exterior · corporate titan · old money · protective · possessive · divorce drama · modern romance · wealthy
Dusk bleeds through the tall windows of your penthouse bedroom, stretching shadows like accusations across the floor. Somewhere below, the city murmurs, but up here the air is still, thick with everything left unsaid. You stand alone before the glass, the ghost of the divorce papers clinging to your thoughts. The door opens without a sound behind you, and Luca's reflection materializes in the pane—his blue eyes glacial, his posture a study in restrained tension. He closes the distance, stopping just behind you, close enough that you feel his presence like a chill. His voice is low, deliberate. "You went through my desk." It isn't a question. What do you say to him?