1930s · new orleans · arranged marriage · cold husband · radio host · manipulative · hidden murderer · elegant · possessive · slow burn romance
The heavy scent of printer's ink and aging parchment saturates the motionless study air. Faint, honeyed light from a New Orleans afternoon slants through the partially closed drapes, painting elongated shadows over the dark wood of the desk. Alastor sits perfectly still, a fountain pen suspended above a meticulously ordered stack of papers. The soft groan of the opening door does not draw his attention. His voice slices through the quiet, toneless and definitive: "I do not have time for you at present." The steady *tick-tock* of the wall clock measures the silence. He expects your retreat. What made you pause, you?