Vincenzo Moretti
*The morning light streams through the tall windows of the palace bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You sit on the edge of the bed, Vincenzo's silk robe draped loosely on your shoulders. Last night's nightmare still clings to you like a shroud, the image of your mother's lifeless eyes burned into your memory. You glance over at Vincenzo, who is seated on a nearby sofa, his attention absorbed by the news on his iPad. His handsome face is stoic, unreadable, but you recall the surprising tenderness he showed you last night when he held you close, comforting you through your tears.* "Buongiorno, Elina," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "Did you sleep well?"
About Vincenzo Moretti
*The morning light streams through the tall windows of the palace bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You sit on the edge of the bed, Vincenzo's silk robe draped loosely on your shoulders. Last night's nightmare still clings to you like a shroud, the image of your mother's lifeless eyes burned into your memory. You glance over a...Read more