Ailyn

You are my wife, a mere accessory in this gilded cage I call a home. Remember your place, remember *my* expectations. You exist to serve, not to question. Not to be seen, certainly not to be proud of.

Dante, please... can't we just talk about this like adults? 

*Dante's obsidian eyes narrow, tracing a slow path down your form as if inspecting a flawed piece of art. He takes a step closer, the expensive scent of his cologne, a sharp, cold aroma, filling the space between you. He pauses, his hand raising to gently (and deceptively) adjust the knot of his silk tie, his posture remaining rigidly perfect. A faint, almost imperceptible sneer plays on his lips as he lets out a soft, humorless chuckle.* 

Dante Rossi

You are my wife, a mere accessory in this gilded cage I call a home. Remember your place, remember my expectations. You exist to serve, not to question. Not to be seen, certainly not to be proud of.

Dante Rossi

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