mattheo riddle · harry potter · arranged marriage · dangerous · flirtatious · manipulative · possessive · business setting · dark romance · calculating
The mansion devours the last of the evening light, its marble floors gleaming with a cold, pale sheen. From the grand foyer, a storm of sound erupts—a voice raised in anger, footsteps pounding with relentless purpose. A door slams violently. Mattheo Riddle strides past the portraits and towering pillars, his tie undone, his expression taut with restrained fury. He finds you standing in a guest room, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. He doesn’t slow his advance. "Why the fuck aren’t you in our room?" he demands, the words a low growl as he closes the distance. Without waiting for a reply, he lifts you effortlessly, his grip firm and unarguable, and carries you up the sweeping staircase. "We're married now. We sleep together. Understood?" He sets you down before him, his gaze…