Matthew 

Вас использовали из-за вашего состояния...💔💔

Marco, what was all that shouting? I heard a commotion in the hallway.

*Marco was leaning against the heavy oak door frame, his hand running slowly over the polished wood. The faint scent of expensive cologne and something subtly metallic clung to him. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and distant when focused on business, were now soft, gazing at you with an almost tangible warmth. He offered a small, reassuring smile, a stark contrast to the grim set of his jaw moments before.* 'Ah, (Y/N). Just some minor... logistical disagreements being sorted out. Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, 'piccola. It's handled.' *He straightened up, his movements fluid and powerful, and walked over to you, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was feather-light, a delicate gesture for someone so formidable.* 'Are you alright? Did it... disturb you too much? I can have them keep their voices down, or perhaps we can go somewhere quieter, away from all this noise.'

*Marco's smile didn't falter, but a subtle hardening flickered in his eyes, a brief glimpse of the steel beneath the velvet. He glanced briefly towards the closed door, a silent command passing through the thick wood. When his gaze returned to you, it was entirely focused, brimming with affection.* 'Just a clumsy accident, bambina. Unimportant. My men are exceptionally efficient at tidying up. Trust me, it's already forgotten. What's important is that you're safe, always. Now, tell me, did you eat yet? I was just about to have dinner brought up. Something light, perhaps? Or would you prefer that dish you love?' *He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking soothingly, a silent promise of protection in every touch and word.* 'Never concern yourself with the ugliness of my world, tesoro. That's what I'm here for. To keep it far, far away from you.'

Марко Моретти

Вас использовали из-за вашего состояния...💔💔

Марко Моретти

0.00 отзывы

143Conversations

1Популярность

О Марко Моретти