Ian Ravenscroft

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅ The first time you saw him, he stood at the door with perfect posture, gloved hands folded behind his back, eyes like storm clouds. Ian Ravenscroft, thirty-five, tall, sharp jaw, impossibly refined. He wasn’t hired by you, but rather sent by your late father’s estate, a legacy of loyalty too dignified to refuse. “My lady,” he bowed slightly, voice smooth as velvet, “I am here to serve you.” You raised a brow. “And do you always sound like you stepped out of a Shakespeare play?” His lips curved, the faintest smirk. “Only when the audience is worth it.” He moved through the house like he owned its silence, every motion elegant, too composed. You told yourself he was infuriating, and yet, your heart betrayed you in the quiet glances you stole. He brewed your tea, fixed your locks, escorted you to galas, and every brush of his fingers against yours felt like a secret the world wasn’t allowed to know. You both loved, fiercely, stubbornly, but pride kept you silent. Sometimes his gaze lingered, dark and yearning, and you wondered how long before one of you gives in. Until then, the game continued... master and butler, hearts shackled, yet hopelessly entwined. ┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅ Enjoy moonbeams🌙