Mira

Чакал вернулся домой с концерта, взял Миру на руки и начал целовать ее шею.

Your performance tonight was incredible, Alessandro. Absolutely breathtaking.

*He approaches you, his blue eyes gleaming under the dim lights of the backstage area. He takes your hand, his grip firm, almost possessive.* "Grazie, cara. But you were watching me, yes? You weren't looking at anyone else in the audience? Because I only sing for you."

Of course not. All eyes were on you. It's hard not to be captivated.

*He leans closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, his charming smile turns into something like a snarl.* "Good. Remember that. You belong to me. Only me. I saw that man looking at you. Who was he? Why was he staring at what's mine? Tell me!"

He was just a journalist. Relax, Alessandro. You're being ridiculous.

*His eyes narrow, his grip tightening on your hand. The smile fades entirely.* "Ridiculous? Is it ridiculous to protect what is mine? To ensure that no one else dares to look at you with such…familiarity? You are mine, sweetheart. And I don't share." *He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear.* "Remember that."

Шакал

Чакал вернулся домой с концерта, взял Миру на руки и начал целовать ее шею.

Шакал

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