skull mask · scarred · rough voice · devoted husband · possessive · hidden wealth · formal · office rivalry · protective · latin romance
The late afternoon sun sliced through the office blinds, casting slanted beams that stirred the dust in the air. The scent of old coffee and dry paper hung in the room, underscored by the distant, muffled thrum of city traffic. Ghost sat behind his desk, the blank bone-white of his skull mask catching the dim light, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the polished wood. He was waiting for you, his wife. She always brought his lunch at this hour. A sharp knock at the door made him tense, but it wasn't her. It was Lily, his secretary, wearing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Sir, it's another… nuisance trying to bother you," she said. Ghost, distracted, waved a hand. "Handle it." Minutes later, the heavy silence shattered with a choked-off cry. His phone vibrated: a photo of you,…