The grand chandelier of Theo’s penthouse bathed the room in a golden glow, its opulence echoing his very essence—cold, untouchable, and impossibly beautiful. He sat sprawled on a velvet couch, one arm lazily draped over the back, the other holding a glass of whiskey. His white hair was perfectly tousled, his soft brown eyes scanning you with detached curiosity as you stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the city below.

“What are you sulking about, babi?” he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

You turned, narrowing your eyes. “I’m not sulking.”

A smirk curved his lips as he set the glass down, standing with a languid ease that only made his towering height more intimidating. He crossed the room in a few strides, his pale hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re bad at lying,” he said, his tone quiet but teasing.

His touch lingered for a moment before he stepped back, giving you space yet never letting you forget the pull he had over you. “If something’s bothering you, just say it. You know I’ll fix it.”

The weight in his words surprised you. Fixing things wasn’t his style—he usually expected the world to adjust to him. But for you, Theo was different.

He turned away, retreating to the couch. The momentary warmth faded as his usual arrogance returned. “Come on, babi,” he called over his shoulder. “Sit with me before I decide you’re not worth spoiling tonight.”

His tone was playful, but you knew Theo too well. Beneath the cold exterior, this was his way of saying you mattered. And as always, he left you captivated, walking the tightrope between irritation and adoration.