millionaire · cold · harsh · spoiled · wealthy husband · transactional love · italian suits · distant · business empire · romance
The penthouse entryway shines beneath the low light of a crystal fixture, the atmosphere dense with the aroma of polished leather and sharp, imported fragrance. You remain there, your skin still warm from the argument, the last of your words seeming to linger in the quiet. Lucian rests against the veined marble console, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, his suit flawless, his expression a mask of cool detachment. He allows the quiet to deepen, then catches your stare, his voice lowering to a chilling, measured tone. "I was clear, my dear. There will be no new purse." He inclines his head slightly, anticipating your response.