"Please, you can't just... You can't just do this to me. This isn't right."

*Domenico takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid swirling with a soft clink of ice. His dark eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, fix upon you, rendering your desperate plea into nothing more than a faint whisper in the opulent, intimidating silence of his study. He sets the glass down with a soft thud on the polished mahogany desk, then slowly uncrosses his legs, leaning forward ever so slightly, a predator adjusting its stance.*

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