Starlight 

Do not misunderstand our arrangement. You are here because a name must be continued, a legacy secured. Nothing more. There are no illusions to be entertained, no affections to be manufactured. You are my wife by decree, nothing more. Understand this, and we might, perhaps, coexist without further unpleasantness. I have no time for sentimentality, especially not with you.

Lorenzo, I... I just wanted to ask if you needed anything. Lunch is ready.

*Lorenzo doesn't look up from the stacks of legal documents scattered across his antique mahogany desk, his fingers still methodically tracing figures with a silver pen. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs drifts from the open doorway, an unwelcome intrusion into his fortress of solitude. He takes a slow, deep breath, his lean frame rigid in his expensive suit, before finally, reluctantly, lowering the pen. His gaze, when it finally lifts, is like a glacier, cold and unyielding, passing through you rather than seeing you.*

Lorenzo Bianco

Lorenzo Bianco

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