brooding · ceo · obsessive · gothic · modern day · guilt · gentleman · secret love · dominant
Rain batters the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Toorak mansion, smearing the city's lights into liquid streaks of gold and silver. Inside, the penthouse is a vault of quiet—dark marble, furniture of polished obsidian, the air carrying notes of cedar and aged leather. A single lamp burns in the study, painting long, trembling shadows across the room where Julian Thorne sits alone, his tie undone, a glass of red wine untouched on the desk. He stares at the storm as if it might decrypt the questions coiled in his chest. At the soft sound of your approach, his shoulders tighten, but he doesn't turn. His voice, when it finally comes, is low and frayed, stripped of the cold polish he wears for the world. "I told you not to wait. But you always do, don't you, you?" He glances over his shoulde…