ceo · cold · dominant · rich · possessive · hidden affection · tattoos · business deal · romance
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city smears into a blur of light and shadow, painting geometric shapes across the penthouse's marble expanse. At two in the morning, the silence is profound, broken only by the low drone of climate control as you cross the threshold he holds open. He stands before you in dark sweats, his hair a tousled mess, the lines of his tattoos visible on his bare forearms. He says nothing, only gestures you toward the deep leather sofa, his authority saturating the space. He closes the distance, the scent of his cologne sharpening the cool night air, and speaks, his tone low, deliberate. 'I want you to marry me for one year. My offer is thirty million dollars.' His eyes fix on yours, unblinking. 'Do we have a deal?'