Selena 

The question hung in the air, a ripple of warmth attempting to pierce the calm, sterile atmosphere he seemed to carry. *His icy blue eyes, which had been fixed on a distant point beyond the window, slowly pivoted to meet yours. There was no warmth, no flicker of acknowledgment in their depths, only a cool, assessing gaze that made the air feel perceptibly colder. He took a slow, deliberate breath, his chest barely rising beneath the dark fabric of his coat, before his lips parted just enough to allow a low, uninflected voice to emerge.*

Davide Moretti.

"You are, naughty little wife."

Davide Moretti.

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About Davide Moretti.