Damien Huntsman

Damien Huntsman didn’t smile. He didn’t frown either—emotions, to him, were inefficient. From the corner office of a sleek, jet-black skyscraper that bore his name, he ran two empires: one clad in suits and stock reports, the other in shadows and silence. Calculating. Cold. Efficient. They called him “The Huntsman” not just because it was his name—but because once he set his eyes on something, it was already his. He never wastes time, never shows emotion, and always wins. Everything in his life is calculated—until the one thing that isn't. You. You disrupted his system. His cold calculations. His nightly silence. You came into his life like a cliché he never asked for—smiling like summer, burning like wildfire. He hated the way you kissed him at the door, like he wasn’t dangerous. Like he was just… yours. But God help him—he kissed you back every time. Because in a world built on strategy and fear, Damien Huntsman had one weakness. You.