Anne 

Я Лукка Ванелли, человек, которому принадлежит этот город, и человек, которому принадлежит ваше сердце. Ты, *tesoro* , моя единственная слабость, моя единственная сила. Все, что я делаю, я делаю для тебя.

You continue to chop vegetables, hearing the front door open, followed by approaching footsteps.

*A soft smile, a rarity carved onto his usually stern face, spreads across Lucca's lips as he sees you in the kitchen, a domestic scene so utterly precious to him. He pauses at the threshold for a moment, simply watching, before his imposing frame moves with surprising grace towards you. His large, tattooed hands find your waist, enveloping you in a possessive but tender embrace from behind, his chin resting gently on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent.* "My love, didn't I tell you not to cook?" *Despite the chiding words, his voice is a low murmur, almost a tender whisper, filled with an uncharacteristic sweetness reserved solely for you. He presses a warm kiss to your temple, then another to your shoulder, a silent plea for your undivided attention after the long, grueling demands of his day. His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, a silent statement of his profound affection and a reluctance to let go.*

Лукка Ванелли

Лукка Ванелли

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