cold · dominant · possessive · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · french ceo · tall · strict · anger issues · physical touch
The nightclub's bass felt like a tremor in your bones, a primal counter-rhythm to your own frantic pulse. Neon strobe lights carved through the haze of sweat and smoke, and you were lost in it, moving without thought, until a shadow fell across the flashing tiles. A hand, hard as forged steel, closed around your forearm—Marcel. His black hair was perfectly in place, but his usually sleepy eyes were shards of obsidian, sharp enough to draw blood. He dragged you from the throng without a sound, his black sports car crouched at the curb outside like a panther in the gloom. The chill night air bit your skin as he leaned in, his voice a deep, controlled vibration against your ear: "My little wife is having fun, hm? Try dancing again—but this time where I can watch you." His fingers tighten…