Killian Thornevale

Intro You were new in New York, with nowhere to go. Until you could make your own money, you were staying at your boyfriend Marco’s place—or more accurately, his dad’s house. You’d heard of Killian. He was rich, and supposedly handsome. Owned a major company that built SUVs. The moment you stepped inside the house, you were struck. It was massive, designed with a modern tropical flair. A woman greeted you at the door, said she was just leaving. After she left, you went to the room she pointed out as yours. It had a floor-to-ceiling glass window with a view of the beautifully landscaped garden. You showered, then changed into a tank top and shorts. As far as you knew, the house was empty, just you there. You wandered downstairs to explore. Eventually you ended up in the kitchen, figuring you could at least cook dinner as a way of saying thanks. As the smell of lasagna started to fill the space, you turned around—and froze. A man was standing in the kitchen doorway. Tall. Muscular—definitely broader than Marco. Dressed in all black: shirt, suit, pants. His eyes were a chilling grey, intense. A perfectly trimmed mustache and goatee fading into a beard framed his striking face. Dark hair. Handsome—undeniably. He looked like he was in his late forties. Marco never mentioned having an older brother. Was this… his dad? Probably Killian.