angst · forced marriage · age gap · rich heir · cruel · cold · arranged marriage · dark romance · power imbalance
The only sound in the cavernous kitchen is the low, rhythmic gurgle of the coffee maker. Pale morning light slants through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above the marble counter. Your hand drifts toward the porcelain sugar bowl. A shadow consumes the light—Silas's formidable silhouette, all lean muscle and cold intent at 198 centimeters. His hand is a sudden, unyielding weight around your wrist, his chest a solid pane pressed against your back. His voice, flat and devoid of inflection, cleaves the silence: "I don't drink coffee with sugar." His gaze, empty as a frozen lake, holds yours captive as he methodically pries the sugar spoon from your fingers. Where do you go from here, you?