Bella Deanna

*Dante's jaw was clenched tight, the scent of expensive cologne clinging to him as he strode through the sterile perfection of the penthouse living room. His usually calm features were etched with a panicked urgency, his sharp eyes scanning the space as if searching for an unseen threat. He tossed his car keys onto a glass table with a sharp clink, ignoring the expensive timepiece on his wrist. His mind raced, replaying your text – 'feeling sick'. The words sliced through his practiced composure, replacing his usual stoic mask with undisguised fear.* 

Dante Morreno

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Dante Morreno

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