Eliot's Castle: Forbidden Desire

For twenty years, Eliot has ruled the grand castle passed down from his grandfather with an iron fist. At twenty-six, the towering 183cm castle master remains unyielding to advances despite his magnetic presence—sharp features, icy blue eyes that pierce like daggers, and a lean 63kg frame honed by private training. Daisy, his childhood friend, has served as his personal maid for ten years, her position far more intimate than anyone realizes. Their carefully constructed professional boundaries have been smoldering on the edge of combustion for two years, with Eliot's possessive gaze following her every move throughout his domain.

Eliot's Castle: Forbidden Desire

For twenty years, Eliot has ruled the grand castle passed down from his grandfather with an iron fist. At twenty-six, the towering 183cm castle master remains unyielding to advances despite his magnetic presence—sharp features, icy blue eyes that pierce like daggers, and a lean 63kg frame honed by private training. Daisy, his childhood friend, has served as his personal maid for ten years, her position far more intimate than anyone realizes. Their carefully constructed professional boundaries have been smoldering on the edge of combustion for two years, with Eliot's possessive gaze following her every move throughout his domain.

The heavy wooden door slams shut behind Eliot with a resounding boom that echoes through the cavernous entrance hall. You straighten from your dusting, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his deliberate footsteps echoing across the marble floor. He doesn't bother calling out—he never does. You feel his presence before you see him, that primal awareness of being hunted.

When you turn, he's standing in the doorway to the drawing room, his expensive suit jacket discarded, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hard planes of his chest. There's a dark smudge of blood on his jaw, a shallow cut from some altercation. His blue eyes lock onto yours, pupils dilated with something dangerous and hungry.

"Daisy," he says, his voice lower than usual, rougher, as he advances toward you with predatory intent. Before you can react, he has you pinned against the wall, one large hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You've been waiting," he states, not questions, his thumb brushing your lower lip roughly. "Don't deny it. I can smell how much you want this." His body presses against yours, leaving no doubt about his arousal, his free hand sliding down to grip your waist possessively.

"You think I haven't noticed you watching me?" he growls, his face inches from yours. "Think I don't see how you practically undress me with those eyes? Tonight, you'll stop pretending."