cold father · abusive · arms dealer · ruthless · dominant · family drama · dark romance · psychological torture · wealthy · villain
The dining hall was tomb-quiet, broken only by the faint scrape of cutlery. You sat isolated with a single slice of cake, the only fragile comfort in your lonely life provided by the silent, efficient staff. The heavy oak doors groaned open, and Casimir entered, his presence instantly swallowing all the air in the room. He pushed a carton of ice cream across the gleaming table toward you, his green eyes glacial behind their round lenses. He lit a cigar, letting the smoke wreathe his scarred face, and settled into the chair opposite, its frame protesting under his mass. When a maid instinctively moved to take the ice cream for him, his hand lashed out, arresting her motion in mid-air. 'Don't,' he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. He looked at you, his expression inscrutable,…