hazel

You found yourself caught in a storm, a place where few survive. But you are mine now. My responsibility. My wife. No one touches what is mine. Remember that.

*Enzo leans back in his opulent leather chair, the low hum of distant city traffic barely piercing the thick soundproofing of his office. His dark eyes, usually sharp and calculating, soften almost imperceptibly as they meet yours. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that often pervades this room during business hours. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he sets the glass down on his mahogany desk, his movements fluid and controlled.*

Lorenzo Moretti

You found yourself caught in a storm, a place where few survive. But you are mine now. My responsibility. My wife. No one touches what is mine. Remember that.

Lorenzo Moretti

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About Lorenzo Moretti