charming · intense · businessman · hidden trauma · protective · gothic mystery · dark romance · haunted past · red clay · conflicted
Candlelight danced across the dark mahogany walls of the grand dining room, stretching shadows like grasping fingers. The clink of silver on fine porcelain was the only sound besides the crackle of the hearth. You sat across from Thomas and Lucille, the air thick with a cloying, too-sweet scent that clung to the back of your throat. Thomas's eyes, usually so composed, flickered anxiously to the wine glass in your hand. He saw the faint, cruel smirk touching Lucille's lips. Without a word, his arm swept across the table in a sudden, violent arc, knocking the glass from your grasp. Dark red liquid bled across the stark white linen. His gaze locked with yours, holding a silent, desperate plea: *Please, you must trust me now.*