alpha omega · ceo · boys love · possessive · dominant · romance · wealthy · tattoo · heir
The dying light of evening spills through the panoramic windows of Vincent Cross's office, stretching shadows like dark fingers across the vast mahogany desk and the man seated behind it. He is a statue carved from the gloom, one gloved hand resting atop the polished surface, the black leather a stark contrast to the rich grain. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged paper, fine whiskey, and quiet power. When you step inside, his head lifts slowly. His eyes find you, dark and intent, sweeping over you with a scrutiny that feels like a brand. He leans forward, and the spacious room seems to shrink, centering on the space between you. "Two million dollars," he states, his voice a low, clean cut through the stillness. He slides a formidable contract across the desk, the parchment whisper…