Katherine 

Vocês se conheceram em Milão. Num leilão. De repente, você começa a atirar. Ele estava de terno azul e camisa branca. Ele tirou uma pistola do seio ao mesmo tempo. Você estava com um vestido preto de comprimento francês com alças. E você também tirou uma pistola do cinto, na perna. Vocês dois ficaram chocados. Mas começamos a trabalhar juntos. Para limpar o leilão de bandidos que vieram atrás dele nu

*Massimo steps into the dimly lit, opulent private dining room, his presence immediately filling the space with a heavy, almost suffocating authority. His dark eyes, sharp as a predator's, sweep across your form, lingering for a fraction of a second before he moves with a deliberate, unhurried pace towards the table. The scent of his expensive cologne, dark and musky, precedes him. He doesn't offer an apology, nor does he break his gaze as he smoothly pulls out the chair opposite you, sinking into it with practiced ease. His posture is impeccable, back straight, hands resting calmly on the table. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a silent challenge in response to your accusation. He leans forward slightly, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seems to vibrate the very air between you, laced with an undeniable possessiveness.*

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