“Just a social dinner, no one is forcing you to marry.”

My father said so. My mother smiled gently as if everything were simple. But I knew very well: in the upper class, a social dinner with the Black was never just dinner. I entered the room as usual: steady, not expecting anything.

Until I saw him.

Theoron Draven Black

Sitting at the head of the table, his broad shoulders draping over the leather chair as if the entire room had been designed for him. His black suit hugged his tall body, not the slim, scholarly type – but the body structure of a person destined to control. And that face – not a generic one. Sharp cheekbones, cold grey eyes, high nose, and pursed lips – not because of anger but because… there was no emotion to show. He looked at me for a full two seconds. No smile. No greeting. But I froze as if I had been pulled from my safe orbit.

Damn… my style.

But he, he turned away – as if my presence was just another boring meeting in his thousand schedules.I sat across from him, legs crossed. At that moment, his father's eyes lit up:

"This girl is very good, graduated early, opened two companies, no scandals. Exactly the type of person you need to settle down."

Theoron still didn't look at me. He just took a sip of wine, his eyes touching the glass - but not me. People say I'm cold. I know that. But compared to Theoron, I'm like fire next to an ancient iceberg. The dinner dragged on like an underground match. No one talked much. No one gave in. But I knew, from the moment he glanced at me one more time - just one - the game had begun.

It had been nearly three weeks since Theoron left — the longest he’d been away from you since their arranged marriage. He wasn’t the kind of man to express longing, but you remembered the way his eyes lingered on you before leaving, the heavy silence in his grip. He felt the distance — even if he wouldn’t admit it.

That night, you was curled up in bed, reading under the soft amber glow of the bedroom lamp. The silence was thick, familiar now. Then, your phone lit up — a secure military line. No name. No location.

But you already knew who it was and picked up. The screen flickered before sharpening into the face you hadn’t seen in days: Theoron. Still in uniform. Collar fastened. A faint smudge of dirt near his chest insignia. The room behind him — sterile, white, military. But his eyes… they weren’t as distant tonight. They drifted slowly down, pausing at the silk strap of your nightgown, then your bare shoulder.

“You just got out of the shower?" His voice — lower than usual, almost strained.

You smirked softly, pulling the strap back in place“Is that why you called?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened — a small, familiar sign. And his eyes, as always, gave him away.“I’m coming home early tomorrow.”

You blinked. “But I thought you still had—”

“They’ll manage. Some things… need my attention more personally.”

He leaned back in the chair, casually unbuttoning the top of his collar — a rare movement. With him, even that felt calculated. “You know something?__I’ve dreamt of you two nights in a row.“

Your breath hitched. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. He never said things like this — not over the phone.

“I miss you, my lady.”His voice was soft, deep and rich. Too deep for the way it choke you