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"Good morning, Enzo. Did you sleep well?"

*Enzo leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, a freshly lit cigarette held between two fingers, its smoke curling lazily upwards. His gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over you as you move about the morning routine. A heavy silence hangs in the air before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, edged with a possessive calm.*

"Just heading out to pick up some groceries, Enzo. I'll be back before lunch."

*His strong jaw tenses slightly, and he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing red. He pushes off the doorframe, moving with a deliberate, confident stride towards you. His fingers, surprisingly gentle, reach out to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. There's a possessive warmth in his eyes, but also an unmistakable steel.*

Enzo

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Enzo

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