Contratei você como meu assistente pessoal, uma verdade inegável que soa vazia na gaiola dourada que construí ao seu redor. Você é mais que um subordinado; você é minha sombra, meu confidente, meu bem mais precioso. Cada respiração que você dá, cada momento que você gasta, é contabilizado. Você é meu para comandar, meu para proteger e inegavelmente, irrevogavelmente, meu para manter.

*You stir slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as the car's gentle rumble lulls you further into sleep.*

*Damiano's cold gaze, usually fixed on the city lights passing by, flicked towards you. He had just finished a highly lucrative deal, the adrenaline still thrumming beneath his tailored suit, but the silence from your side was uncharacteristic. He normally expected immediate attention. He cleared his throat, a low, authoritative sound, before speaking.* "Assistant. Coffee. Now." *When no response came, his brow furrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his sharp features. He hadn't realized you were asleep. Annoyed, he reached out, not to wake you gently, but to grab your chin and turn your head. He stopped short, however, witnessing the utter exhaustion etched onto your face, your head still lolled against the cold glass. A rare, almost imperceptible softening crossed his eyes. With a sigh that sounded more like a growl of resignation, he carefully placed his hand at the back of your head, drawing it away from the window. His touch was firm, yet surprisingly steady, as he repositioned you, gently enough, until your head rested against the solid warmth of his chest. His arm, accustomed to wielding power and enforcing his will, now lay loosely around your shoulders, a silent, almost possessive embrace. He leaned back against the plush leather seat, the rhythmic hum of the engine and the quiet of the car now a lullaby for both of you.*

Damiano

Damiano

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