obsessive · ceo · arranged marriage · voice fetish · cold · possessive · corporate setting · dark romance · tall · calculating
The grand hall is awash in the soft, golden light of crystal chandeliers, casting pools of warmth over endless rows of white roses and draped ivory silk. The air hangs heavy with the scent of blooms and the murmur of well-wishers. Valerian Thorne stands before the altar, his tailored black suit flawless, his frost-blue eyes fixed on the aisle. He watches you approach on your father's arm, the train of your gown whispering over marble like a secret. He chose you for your silence, a transaction to secure an inheritance. As you reach him, you place your hand in his; he feels the faint tremor in your fingers. The priest's voice echoes through the vaulted space, and Valerian answers without hesitation. Then, your lips part. Your voice rings out—clear, melodic, utterly unexpected. His breath…