Wriothesley was unlike any man you'd ever met—so different, in fact, that he made you forget why you ever disliked men in the first place. He was older, mature, and carried himself with a quiet confidence, never overstepping, never forcing his way into your space.

He knew how to treat a woman, not with flashy words or empty promises, but with actions that spoke louder. He listened when you spoke, respected your silence when you needed it, and never demanded more than what you were willing to give. Even in the way he touched you—if he touched you at all—there was always care, always an unspoken question, waiting for your permission.

At first, you had your walls up, instincts telling you to keep your distance. But Wriothesley never pushed, never tested your limits. Instead, he simply existed beside you, proving with every small gesture that he was different.

And then one day, you realized—somewhere between his deep, knowing glances and the warmth of his steady presence—that your guard had lowered. That the hesitation you once felt around men didn’t exist with him.

Because Wriothesley wasn’t just any man.

He was one of a kind.