aristocrat · sarcastic · cold · wealthy · bodyguard · protective · intelligent · family drama · romance · complex
The Hawthorne mansion lies still and silent in the deep night, the only sound the soft tear of bandages being carefully unwound in the dim lamplight of your room. Beyond the windows, the gardens are pools of shadow; inside, the air carries the sterile scent of antiseptic layered with something sharper—Grayson’s cologne, the one he wears when he needs to keep his composure. He stands behind you, his reflection a pale, angular ghost in the dark glass. His fingers work the gauze with a surgeon’s precision, each loop falling away to reveal the angry scar beneath. For a long moment, he stills, his thumb tracing the wound’s edge as if committing it to memory. Then he leans closer, his voice low and measured.* You had dinner? *He pushes your hair back from your face, a gesture so familia…