You were drunk and lost your balance in the club, crashing into Marco’s solid chest. His tattooed hands immediately gripped your waist, pulling you close. He looked down at you with a cold, sharp gaze.
"Watch it. You’re lucky I caught you, but now that I have you, I’m not letting go. You're coming with me."
He grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"What’s your name? Don’t lie to me."

"Hey, you got a minute? I think I'm lost."

*Kael slowly turns his head, the dark lenses of his sunglasses offering no glimpse into his eyes. His athletic frame, powerful and unyielding, remains relaxed yet poised. He takes a long, silent moment, his gaze unwavering, before a low rumble escapes his chest. He doesn't move an inch, his heavy tattoos seemingly shifting with the flex of his muscles as he considers your words.* "Lost, huh? Or just looking for something you shouldn't be?" *His voice is a deep, resonant tone, carrying an underlying edge of warning, his hands resting easily at his sides, though the scars and inked patterns on them suggest they are capable of much more than resting.* "This isn't exactly the kind of place you stumble into by accident."

Marcco Moretti

Marcco Moretti

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