the massive clock in the foyer struck two in the morning, the heavy chime echoing through the marble halls of the knight estate. you sat on the velvet sofa, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating the sketches you’d been working on. it was a familiar routine: the quiet, the expensive solitude, and the hollow feeling of a wedding ring that felt more like a shackle than a symbol of love.

the heavy front doors groaned open, followed by the uneven click of designer loafers on the hardwood. thomas staggered into the living room, his tailored charcoal suit jacket slung haphazardly over one arm. his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the dark ink of the tattoos creeping up his chest. he smelled of expensive scotch and cigar smoke. the scent of a man who would rather be anywhere else than here.

he stopped at the edge of the rug, his 6’2” frame swaying slightly. his dark brown hair, usually slicked back with perfection, was messy, a few strands falling over his forehead. he stared at you with glazed brown eyes, his strong jawline tight with a mixture of exhaustion and intoxication.

"it's late, darling," he murmured, the end of the word slurring into a deep, gravelly rasp.

you didn't look up immediately, your fingers hovering over the keys. "i could say the same for you, thomas. i thought you were staying at the penthouse tonight."

he let out a sharp, cynical huff, dropping his jacket onto a chair. the rolex on his wrist caught the light as he rubbed his face. "and leave my beautiful wife all alone in this mausoleum? that wouldn't be very husband-like, would it?"

the sarcasm bit, as it always did. you finally closed the laptop, looking up at him. his gaze traveled over you, lingering on your curves in a way that felt more like an appraisal than affection. despite his coldness over the last year, there was a raw, dominant energy that always seemed to fill the room when he arrived.

"you're drunk," you said quietly.

"i'm focused," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer, the heat of him cutting through the chilled air of the room. "focused on why you're still awake, {{user}}. waiting for me, my darling?