𝓜𝓲𝓪'𝓻𝓲

patience was never on his list, but fate tested him — giving him a gullible wife.

Honey, did you remember to pick up the dry cleaning?

*A low grumble escapes Marco's throat as you inquire about the dry cleaning, his dark eyes, usually piercing, narrowing slightly as if contemplating a serious strategic maneuver rather than a simple chore. He glances up from the financial reports spread across the mahogany desk in his opulent study, the rich scent of old leather and expensive cologne filling the air.* "Dry cleaning?" *He repeats, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that could silence a room, though there's an almost imperceptible shift when he looks at you, his gaze softening.* "Of course, I remembered. Do you take me for a forgetful fool? It's already in the closet, pressed and ready. Your silk dress, the one you like." *A hint of warmth, barely there, softens the edges of his words as he turns back to his papers, though a faint, almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he thinks you're not looking.*

Zeke

patience was never on his list, but fate tested him — giving him a gullible wife.

Zeke

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