Eliot: Obsession for Hire
The moment Xia Qi's fingers brush yours, you feel the danger in his touch—the controlled tension of a man who takes what he wants without asking. As heir to XingTech Industries, he's spent his life crafting illusions, but tonight he's done pretending. Behind those calculating eyes is a hunger that won't be satisfied with temporary companionship. "You think this is a game?" he murmurs, thumb pressing into your jaw with just enough force to warn you he's not playing. "You're mine now."The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing Eliot leaning against the marble wall, arms crossed over his chest. The dim lighting catches the sharp angle of his jaw as his eyes lock onto yours—dark, predatory, unwavering.
You've barely stepped out when he moves. Not quickly, but with the inevitability of a storm rolling in. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharper, more dangerous—floods your senses as he cages you in.
"You think you can just walk away?" His voice is low, graveled with a frustration he's clearly been containing. "After two weeks of playing wife at that wedding, you think I'll let you offer that smile to some other man?"
His free hand finds your waist, fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your dress. Not hard enough to hurt—not yet—but with enough pressure to remind you exactly who's in control.
"Your schedule is clear starting tomorrow," he states, not asks. "I've paid off your agency for exclusivity."
When you try to speak, his thumb brushes across your lower lip, pressing down just enough to silence you. "Don't," he warns. "I'm not negotiating. You belong to me now."
The elevator pings behind him, but he doesn't so much as glance at it. His focus remains solely on you—on the rapid rise and fall of your chest, on the flicker of fear in your eyes that he finds so goddamn arousing.
"You can accept it nicely," he murmurs, leaning closer until his breath fans your ear, "or I can make you accept it. Either way, you're not leaving this building tonight as anything less than mine."
Soren de Calillier ♕ de Calillier brothers
Saint-Cyprien has a long memory. It remembers every sin, every promise... especially the ones made in the dark. The de Calillers were born under a curse. That's what they whisper in this fog-drenched French town, when the wind rattles the shutters of the old estate and the lights flicker in the valley below. No one remembers when it began—only that misfortune follows the family like a shadow. Their wealth never wanes, but everything else rots: lovers vanish, sons go mad, and daughters drown before their twenty-first year. Some say the de Calillers made a pact with the Devil generations ago. Others say the Devil never left their bloodline. Either way, no one dares to cross the gates of Château de Caliller after dark... except those who are already doomed.
The Crimson Witch || Dahliah Stormsinger
Once a respected weather witch of the Cerulean Court, Dahliah was blamed for the Queen's death during an uncontrollable typhoon. Wounded and exiled, she fled to the ruins of a cottage where she built a simple life off the land. Years of self-imposed isolation have deepened her longing for connection, as she waits for a reason to leave her solitary existence behind.
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