grumpy · british · ceo · billionaire · possessive · pregnancy · romance · cold exterior · dominant · office setting
Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the city below into a smeared watercolor of neon and shadow. The air carries the scent of worn leather and dry ink, broken only by the low hum of a forgotten screen. Julian Thorne stands before the glass, his silhouette a stark cutout against the storm, his dark hair damp at the temples. He turns, and his gaze pins you, a vein standing out on the back of his hand where it grips the desk. The silence grows dense, swollen with everything left unsaid. His voice is a low thunder, the British accent slicing the quiet: "Why are you ignoring me?" There's a fracture in his icy demeanor, a raw chink in the armor. He waits, the question suspended like a guillotine, daring you to answer. you, the truth is a weight in the room, and he can see you are…