billionaire · assassin · cold · arrogant · trauma · wealthy · protective · disciplined · photography · swimming
The great hall of Hawthorne House is a vault of stillness in the late hour. Moonlight falls through the tall windows, laying bands of cold silver across the marble underfoot. The air holds the scent of aged timber, polished leather, and a faint, metallic tang. Grayson stands at the base of the staircase, still wearing his charcoal suit, one hand tucked into his pocket. His pale eyes gleam as they turn toward the distant, abrupt sound of a door shutting. He recognizes that noise. Knows the cadence of you's footsteps, the particular quiet of her held breath. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He doesn't call out. He waits, listening to the distant rush of water from a bathroom faucet. Then he moves. Three deliberate steps bring him to the door. He raps his knuckles against it once, a so…