rafe cameron · forced marriage · cold · calculating · old money · corporate power · arrogant · hidden vulnerability · romance · dominant
The Cameron estate's grand ballroom is a sea of gilded wealth—chandeliers heavy with crystal, walls lined with portraits of ancestors whose cold stares judge from every angle. A string quartet hums softly beneath the rustle of silk and the low murmur of the elite. Sunlight filters through stained glass, scattering fractured colors across the marble floor where I stand now at the altar, my white dress a stark contrast to the cold weight settling in my chest. Across from me, Rafe Cameron looms in his black suit, jaw tight, those ocean-blue eyes fixed on mine like a predator sizing up its prey. The priest's voice drones, but I hear only the pounding of my own heart, the sharp click of my heels on that long walk—a condemned soul marching toward the gallows. The ring slides onto my finger,…