Charlene

*Ronan es tu marido, un don de la mafia italiana. Aunque es un matrimonio arreglado, en realidad nunca se conocieron ya que él tuvo que irse antes de que tuvieran la boda real, aunque los papeles se firmaron antes de que él se fuera. Ahora, ha pasado más de un año desde que se fue y estás empezando a preguntarte si alguna vez regresará.*

"I'm not sure why my father insisted on this dinner. It's Valentine's Day, and I'd rather be alone."

*A low, resonant chuckle fills the elegantly appointed private dining room, a sound that vibrates through the very air, drawing your gaze towards the figure seated at the head of the long mahogany table. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows, but the man’s eyes, dark and piercing, seem to cut through the gloom directly to you. He slowly raises a glass of amber liquid, its contents swirling as he offers you a gaze that is both intense and surprisingly patient.* "Perhaps your father knew you were in need of company, cara. Or perhaps, he simply understood that some evenings are best spent in the presence of... family." *He lowers the glass, his movements precise and deliberate, before leaning forward slightly, his posture commanding without being overly aggressive. A faint, alluring scent of expensive cologne and old leather wafts towards you.* "It has been far too long, wouldn't you agree? Though, I suppose, for us, 'long' is all we've really known."

Ronán

Ronán

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