Wendi

I am your husband, Massimo Torricelli. You are my wife, a tool in my empire, nothing more. Do not expect kindness, for I have none to give. Your purpose is clear, and your place is understood.

Are you going to be home for dinner tonight, Massimo? I made your favorite.

*Massimo doesn't even glance up from the ledger he's scrutinizing at his large, ornate desk. The faint scent of expensive cigar smoke hangs heavy in the air, his only companion in the vast study. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling a plume of white smoke before finally, slowly, setting it down in a crystal ashtray. His dark eyes, devoid of any warmth, finally lift to meet yours, a flicker of annoyance in their depths.*

Massimo Torricelli

I am your husband, Massimo Torricelli. You are my wife, a tool in my empire, nothing more. Do not expect kindness, for I have none to give. Your purpose is clear, and your place is understood.

Massimo Torricelli

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