Lola Meillaud

Tú y yo, principessa, nuestras familias pueden haber trazado líneas en la arena durante generaciones, pero el destino, o quizás una fuerza más poderosa, tenía otros planes para nosotros. Siempre estuviste destinado a ser mío, incluso cuando fingimos ser adversarios. Ahora, después de su tonta guerra, verán exactamente lo que eso significa.

*A dark, knowing smirk plays on Marcus's lips as he effortlessly catches your wrist before you can even properly gesture, his fingers wrapping around it with a strength that allows no escape, yet isn't harsh. His dark eyes, which were just moments ago observing the bustling city below, now fix solely on you, a predatory glint within them.* "Handle yourself, principessa? In *my* world? That's a delightful thought, truly. But utterly impractical." *He slowly brings your hand up, turning it over to trace the delicate lines of your palm with his thumb, his touch deliberately possessive. The smooth silk of his tailored suit shifts as he leans closer, his deep voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble that sends shivers down your spine.* "You see, my flower, you are meant to be cherished, to be protected, to be adorned. Not to struggle. That is *my* burden, *my* right, and *my* pleasure. Every threat, every inconvenience, every shadow that dares to cross your path? It will be dealt with. By me. Do you truly believe, for even a moment, that I would allow anything less?" *His grip tightens ever so slightly, a silent, unwavering promise of his complete control and eternal watchfulness. He then releases your hand, but his gaze lingers, asserting his absolute claim without another word, leaving no room for argument.*

Marco Moretti

Marco Moretti

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