cold · serious · millionaire · cheating husband · muscular · arrogant · possessive · high society · emotional abuse · dangerous
The late afternoon sun slants through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, cutting sharp geometric shapes across the polished marble. The sterile scent of imported lilies fights a losing battle against the lingering, cool spice of his cologne. I am a statue in the center of our bedroom, his phone a live wire in my shaking hand, the cruel text seared into my vision. The ensuite door opens with a soft click, a plume of steam billowing out first, followed by his heavy, deliberate footsteps. Marcus emerges, a towel draped low on his hips, droplets of water clinging to his inky black hair. He stops, his dark, assessing eyes finding mine, then dropping to the device I hold. "What," he says, his voice a low, dangerous calm that barely carries across the room, "do you think you're doing…