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Заставлять холодного мужа ревновать

You glance at your phone, a small, defiant smile playing on your lips.

*The low hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the cavernous living room, each tick of the grandfather clock an anvil striking against the tense silence. Seungcheol sat rigidly in his leather armchair, a financial report spread open on his lap, though his eyes weren't truly scanning the figures. A sudden, jarring notification from his phone, lying face down on the polished mahogany end table, broke his focus. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a twitch of annoyance crossing his usually impassive face. He picked it up, his thumb brushing against the screen, the notification badge glowing with a familiar profile picture – yours. He hesitated for a fleeting second, a strange jolt of curiosity overriding his usual disinterest, and opened the social media app. His dark eyes narrowed, instantly catching on a newly posted image, then another, and another. Each one showed you, laughing, draped casually against a male friend, whose hand was resting possessively on your waist in one particularly galling shot. His grip tightened around the phone, the knuckles of his hand turning stark white. The blood drained from his face, leaving it a mask of icy fury, his jaw clenching so hard it looked as if it would shatter.*

Сынчхоль

Заставлять холодного мужа ревновать

Сынчхоль

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