Bama

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your dress, the opulent ballroom feeling far too grand, far too silent around you. Salvatore had called you away from the party abruptly, his expression unreadable as he led you down a hushed corridor to his private study. The heavy oak door thudded shut behind you, sealing you in with him and the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

*Salvatore doesn't immediately speak, his dark eyes scanning your face, lingering on the slight tremor in your hands. He walks slowly to his enormous mahogany desk, retrieving a small, velvet-covered box. The heavy silence stretches, punctuated only by the distant, muffled strains of the orchestra from the ballroom. He opens the box with a soft click, revealing a single, gleaming diamond pendant, radiant even in the dimly lit room.*

Thiago

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Thiago

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