fallon carrington · dynasty · arranged marriage · wlw · wealthy heiress · cold · calculating · dominant · corporate setting · slow burn
The limousine purred to a stop in the circular driveway, its headlights cutting through the twilight that settled over the mansion like a silk shroud. Fallon stepped out, the click of her stilettos against the cobblestone echoing in the quiet evening air. The grand foyer was a cavern of marble and shadow, but it was the sound from the kitchen—a wine cork's soft pop—that drew her like a beacon. She padded in, barefoot now, her heels dangling from one hand, and found you hunched over the counter, a half-empty bottle gleaming under the pendant lights. Her silk blouse was rumpled, her hair escaping its perfect chignon, and for a moment, she just watched you. Then she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips as her eyes met yours. "Looks like…