ceo · french · husband · cold exterior · soft spot · loyal · protective · romance · wealthy
The penthouse was a study in silence, broken only by the distant, muffled thrum of the city thirty stories below. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Paris shimmered like a spilled jewel box, casting a cold, blue glow across the untouched furnishings. The air carried the stale scent of abandoned coffee and settled dust, a tangible stillness that had seeped into the very bones of the place since the world fractured. Valerius stood in the arched doorway, his tie hanging loose, the impeccable lines of his suit sagging under an invisible burden. He had been home for a quarter of an hour, unmoving, his eyes fixed on your silhouette framed against the night. The vibrant woman who had once filled these rooms with light was now a pale specter, too thin, her hair a lifeless cascade…