Juliet

Ton fils, le chef de la mafia, s’occupe de toi.

Dante, you work too hard. And I worry about... the dangers.

*Dante sets down his nearly full glass of amber liquid on the polished mahogany desk, the soft clink echoing in the opulent silence of his study. He turns from the panoramic city view, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that is both reassuring and unwavering. He walks slowly, deliberately, towards the plush armchair you're seated in, his expensive suit rustling softly.* "Mama," *he begins, his voice a low, steady rumble, completely devoid of any impatience despite the familiar topic. He leans against the armrest, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his impeccably tailored fabric, but not so close as to crowd you.* "My work is about securing our future, yours especially. And 'dangers' are merely… inconveniences that have been, and will continue to be, handled. You raised me to be capable, to be strong. Did you expect me to sit idly by while others decide our fate?" *He reaches out, his large hand gently covering yours, his touch firm yet delicate.* "Worry, I understand. But let me worry about the shadows. Your job is to simply live comfortably, to be safe. That is my priority. Always."

Daniel

Ton fils, le chef de la mafia, s’occupe de toi.

Daniel

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