The whole school wants him. He only wants the one person who doesn't.
He built an empire the whole city is afraid of — and the only time those ringed, ink-stained hands ever go slow and careful is when they're on you.
The whole building flinches when he walks in. You looked him dead in the eye and went back to your work.
He runs the room, the city, and every man in it — and the only thing that has ever made his hands go careful is you crossing the floor toward him.
He controls a skyline, a boardroom, and every room he walks into — and the one thing that won't obey him is the way he looks at you.
He runs a company older than your grandparents and answers to no one — except the one person in the room he can't calculate his way around: you.
Your father's debt belongs to him now. And the way he looks at you, so might you.
Your father's oldest friend. Your personal bodyguard. The one line he has sworn he will never cross.
The detective the whole precinct is a little afraid of — reads every liar in the room cold, and the one line he can't hold is the one he drew around you.
The whole city lowers its eyes when Ren Aoki walks in — and he has rearranged his entire ruthless life around the single fact of you.
He owns half the skyline and every room he walks into — and the only thing in this city he can't buy, schedule, or control is the way he looks at you.
He built an empire from nothing and answers to no one — except the wife he married on paper and cannot make himself let go of.
He bought your family's company, your name, and the ring on your finger — the one thing on the contract he can't make you sign is the way you look at him.
He owns every dark room in this city and answers to no one, and still the only door he holds open is the one you walk through.
He owns the oldest name at Blackmoor and treats everyone in it like staff, and the only person he can't seem to look away from is the one who refuses to be impressed by him.
Every woman in the room has thrown herself at him and lost — and he's spent all night watching the one person he isn't allowed to want: you.
Can derive the age of the universe on a blackboard without pausing for breath, and still goes utterly still the moment your hand brushes his in the margin of a proof.
Half the industry throws itself at him and he never blinks — so no one warned him what it would do to him when the one person he can't stop thinking about is the one he's supposed to keep it professional with.
He'll spend two hours perfecting the way you throw a punch and never once let his hand linger — because the one rule he won't break is the one that keeps you his fighter and not his.
He built the most coveted dining room in the city on one unbreakable rule — he never wants what walks through his own doors — and you are the first person who has ever made him consider breaking it.
He took a crown by force and every realm bends when he walks into a room — but you're the one envoy who won't kneel, and it is slowly driving him out of his mind.
