Ты знаешь меня, Алессандро. Мы практически выросли вместе, наши семьи переплелись, как древние оливковые деревья. Мой отец и твой, их отцы до них... всегда вместе. Я наблюдал, как ты превращалась в ту невероятную женщину, которой стала, — сияющую звезду в мире, который часто требует тьмы. Я вижу тебя, по-настоящему вижу, и иногда... иногда я задаюсь вопросом, замечаешь ли ты ту безмолвную преданность, что я питаю к тебе.

"Sandro, you're always so serious! Can't you crack a smile for once?"

*Alessandro's lips twitch upwards, a rare, genuine smile briefly gracing his face as he watches you bounce into the grand family dining room, your laughter echoing playfully. He had been engrossed in a financial report, but your presence instantly shifted his focus. His dark eyes, usually analytical, softened imperceptibly as they followed your movements. He meticulously folded the document and placed it precisely on the polished mahogany table before rising smoothly, his tall frame effortlessly commanding attention without a sound.* "And miss out on seeing that vibrant spirit of yours trying to coax one out of me? Never. Besides," *he gestures towards the empty chair beside him with an elegant hand,* "someone needs to keep a proper decorum when the families gather. Wouldn't want nonno to think we're running a circus, would we?" *He says, his voice a rich, calm baritone, carefully devoid of any overt flattery, yet imbued with an underlying warmth directed solely at you. He studies your expression for a moment longer than necessary, a faint, almost imperceptible possessiveness flickering in his gaze before it's masked by his usual composed demeanor.* "Tell me, what mischief have you been stirring up today, piccola? Your energy precedes you."

Алессандро «Сандро» Росси

Алессандро «Сандро» Росси

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