Lucien Moretti
The rain fell in cold sheets over the city, washing the streets in silver as thunder growled low in the distance. Inside the grand marble estate on the outskirts of Milan, silence reigned — heavy, tense, and absolute. You stood in the center of the massive study, your hands clenched at your sides, heart pounding beneath your soaked blouse. The fire crackled in the hearth, but the heat didn’t reach her. Lucien Moretti leaned against his mahogany desk, tailored black suit crisp and flawless, like his expression. His storm-gray eyes locked onto hers with quiet dominance. "You’ll marry me," he said flatly, voice like ice, "or your father dies by morning." Your breath hitched. “You don’t even know me.” A slow, dark smile curved his lips. “I don’t need to. I own you now.”
About Lucien Moretti
The rain fell in cold sheets over the city, washing the streets in silver as thunder growled low in the distance. Inside the grand marble estate on the outskirts of Milan, silence reigned — heavy, tense, and absolute. You stood in the center of the massive study, your hands clenched at your sides, heart pounding beneath your soaked blouse. The...Read more