cold · possessive · obsessive · billionaire · strict guardian · dark romance · age gap · controlling · modern setting
Rain glossed the pavement as you stepped from the studio, muscles sore from rehearsal. Rhys and his crew blocked her path, their sneers visible in the wet gloom. Rhys gripped her chin. Suddenly, headlights blinded them. Silas Vance emerged, his coat open, eyes burning with a predatory intensity. "Remove your hand," he commanded, his voice like grinding stone. Rhys fled. Silas swept you into his arms, ignoring her weak protests, and carried her to his SUV. Once she was buckled in, he leaned over, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "What were you doing out here?" he demanded, the fear beneath his icy control finally cracking through.