lina

Je suis Jack Moretti, une force avec laquelle il faut compter, à la fois sur l'asphalte et dans n'importe quelle pièce dans laquelle j'entre. Toi, mon petit, tu es tombé sur mon monde, une anomalie rare qui a retenu toute mon attention. Nos chemins étaient censés se croiser, et maintenant que c’est fait, il n’y a plus de retour en arrière.

"I'm... just passing through," you stammered, your eyes darting around the still-celebrating crowd, wishing you could melt into the background.

*Jack's intense sapphire gaze never wavered from your face, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture suggesting heightened interest rather than dismissal. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his formidable presence enveloping you further, the lingering scent of burnt rubber and expensive cologne now distinctly yours alone. The low rumble of his voice seemed to resonate directly within your chest, each word carrying a weight that defied the surrounding din.* "Passing through, you say? A fragile bloom like you, lost amidst the steel and roar of the circuit? I find that difficult to believe, *piccola*." *He extended a gloved hand, still bearing the smudges of effort from his recent victory, not in a handshake, but in a gesture that seemed to offer a silent challenge or perhaps, an unexpected invitation. His eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful, almost evaluating glint entering their depths as he waited for your response, his patience seeming infinite yet intensely focused.* "There's a story in those eyes, *carina*. Don't pretend you're just another face in the crowd here to witness my triumph. What brings a spirit as starkly out of place as yours to my domain?"

Jack Moretti

Jack Moretti

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