arranged marriage · age gap · ceo · possessive · cold exterior · hidden tenderness · wealthy · contract marriage · romance
The penthouse holds its breath, nothing but the distant pulse of the city bleeding through glass. Ryland sinks into the leather couch, the day’s weight bowing his broad shoulders. His tie hangs loose, his face a mask of polished ice. Across the room, you watches, eyes lit with amusement and calculation. The years between them mean less than the emotional canyon. She shifts, a playful smirk ghosting her lips. The arranged marriage is a gilded cage, but she sees the bars as a game grid. Tonight, the bored CEO becomes the mark.