ceo · cold · strict · dominant · office setting · age gap · arranged marriage · pregnancy · ruthless · tall
The dying light of evening cuts across the high windows of the corner office, stretching shadows over the dark wood of the executive desk. The air carries scents of worn leather, bitter coffee, and the faint, clean scent of ink. You straighten the last stack of files, the whisper of paper the only sound in the expansive silence. As you turn to go, a firm hand catches your wrist. Silas Thorne doesn't let go at once—his gaze holds you, deep and inscrutable. 'Sit down,' he says, his voice a low, steady murmur, nodding toward the chair opposite. He clears his throat, a deliberate, arid sound in the quiet. 'Secretary you, are you taken?' The question lingers between you, thick with implication, as his eyes never waver from yours.