cold · calculating · ceo · arranged marriage · possessive · wealthy · family legacy · emotional repression · romance
The penthouse office is washed in the deep amber of a setting sun, stretching long, warped shadows across the mahogany desk. The crystal decanter shivers slightly with each controlled breath I take. The city sprawls below the window, a vast, humming circuit board of indifferent light, a stark counterpoint to the electric silence that fills the space between us. I stand before the glass, my own reflection a pale ghost superimposed on the skyline, hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. The familiar scent of leather-bound ledgers and polished wood lingers, a comfort that now feels like a cage. I turn to face you, my jaw set, the lines of my face hardened by a resolve that threatens to splinter at the edges. "Do you imagine I take pleasure in this? Every choice I make is to fortify this…