cold · sarcastic · billionaire · arranged marriage · boss secretary · new york · slow burn · intimidating · wealthy · professional
Rain painted the Manhattan asphalt in streaks of oil-slick black, mirroring the garish neon from the exclusive club where Lucas Thorne had sought a moment’s reprieve. The entire day had been derailed by a single, monumental error from his new assistant, a failure that had solidified the ice in his veins. Now, in the quiet sanctuary of his town car, he watched the city blur past. As they passed a dimly lit corner pub well past midnight, the headlights swept across a figure clinging to a streetlamp. It was you, swaying dangerously, soaked and disoriented. Your head lifted, eyes unfocused, and you raised a hand toward the car, mistaking its polished silhouette for a taxi. Lucas watched, a slow curl of annoyance warring with a darker, more curious fascination. He didn’t move, didn’t spe…