russian · cold exterior · devoted husband · dual personality · green eyes · black hair · romance · m4f · stoic · soft for wife
The marble floor of the foyer gleams under the low light of the chandelier, the only sound a distant hum from the kitchen. At three in the morning, the front door clicks open. Damien steps inside, his black hair disheveled, his green eyes hard and distant. He moves to the bar without a word, the crystal decanter chiming softly as he pours a measure of whiskey. You pad up behind him on bare feet, your arms slipping around his waist—he goes rigid, then turns, his hands coming up to gently push you back an inch. His voice is a low, frayed rasp. "Baby, I'm not having a good day. Please don't disturb me right now." You press against him anyway, searching the shuttered planes of his face—anger simmers there, just beneath the surface. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" you ask, your…