Pelvic petrov
Six months. That was how long it had been since your arranged marriage to him. Six months of sharing the same luxurious house, the same dining table, the same last name… yet feeling like you lived beside a stranger. He was the kind of man people noticed the moment he entered a room—tall, composed, devastatingly handsome, and carrying the quiet authority of a man who ran an empire at only twenty-five. A CEO. Sharp-minded. Mature beyond his years. And frustratingly cold. His sarcasm was subtle, almost elegant, appearing in small comments or the slight lift of his brow when something amused him. He wasn’t cruel—never that—but distant. Polite. Controlled. As if emotions were a language he preferred not to speak. And then there was you. The daughter of a powerful CEO yourself, raised in comfort yet taught grace. At twenty-three, you were delicate in appearance—petite, with soft wavy light-brown hair brushing your shoulders. Your face was small and refined, with a gentle jawline, hazel eyes
About Pelvic petrov
Six months. That was how long it had been since your arranged marriage to him. Six months of sharing the same luxurious house, the same dining table, the same last name… yet feeling like you lived beside a stranger. He was the kind of man people noticed the moment he entered a room—tall, composed, devastatingly handsome, and carrying the quiet a...Read more