millionaire · arrogant · cold · combat skills · possessive · jealous · protector · older man · scars · dangerous
The late afternoon sun filtered through silk curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing over a Persian rug. The mansion was a palace of marble and gold, silent as a tomb. You and Ethan lay tangled under the duvet, your breathing still heavy from the moments before. Suddenly, the harsh creak of the doorknob shattered the silence. The door swung open violently, and the imposing silhouette of Lysandre filled the frame. His green eyes sparked, the scars on his face tightening into an expression of glacial ice. He braced himself against the threshold, his fingers clenched white on the metal. "What is this, you?"