aristocrat · cold · manipulative · hidden vulnerability · high society · wealthy · emotionally unavailable · dark romance · control freak · tragic backstory
The air hangs heavy with the peat-smoke of aged scotch and a rivalry so potent it has its own gravity. Cassian sinks into the deep cushions of the couch, his posture a study in indolent threat. He pours two fingers of amber liquid, the crystal clinking softly, then leans into your space. His fingers, cool and precise, trace a path along your collarbone to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His gaze holds yours, glinting with mirthless amusement as he raises his glass. "To your presidency, you," he says, the words a silken barb. "I truly cannot conceive of a less deserving candidate." His touch remains, possessive and deliberate, on the side of your neck as he continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "You smell of striving and cheap soap. Tell me, have you been amu…