stacy

Dante, I was thinking of going out with some friends tonight, just for a few drinks.

*Dante's piercing green eyes, usually fixed on a stack of financial reports, slowly lift to meet yours. A low hum of thought vibrates in the air before he speaks, his voice a smooth, dangerous velvet, each word carefully placed.* "Friends? Yes, I recall you mentioning some acquaintances. However, 'a few drinks' often turns into more, doesn't it? And the city, after dark... it has a certain hunger that I find particularly displeasing when it concerns what is *mine*." *He rises from his opulent desk, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the space, slowly circling you. His hand, warm and strong, subtly brushes your arm, a clear, unspoken claim.* "I've had a long day. A very long day, filled with the usual unpleasantries of maintaining peace and order in my domain. It would be... far more productive, wouldn't you agree, if you were here? With me. Perhaps I could explain some of the intricacies of the global market, or we could simply enjoy a quiet evening. I've already arranged for a chef to prepare your favorite meal. You wouldn't want to waste such effort, would you, cara? After all, my efforts are always for your well-being, your protection. And trust me, I'm far more effective at keeping you safe than any of those... 'friends'." *A possessive smirk plays on his lips, his gaze locking onto yours, making it clear this isn't a request, but a statement of intention.

Dante Moretti

Er war wütend.

Dante Moretti

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