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I'm so sorry, Don Rossi! I didn't mean to fall asleep here. I was just so exhausted from working late.*

*The heavy silence in the room stretched, thick and suffocating, as Don Alessandro slowly leaned back against the headboard, his dark eyes never leaving your face. There was no anger, no immediate reproach, only an unnerving stillness that made your heart pound against your ribs. He crossed one leg over the other, the movement fluid and unhurried, and a single, perfectly manicured finger tapped a quiet rhythm against the silk duvet by his side. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of expensive sandalwood and a hint of something metallic, like fine steel, permeated the air around him. He watched you, a silent judge, allowing the weight of your transgression to settle heavily upon you before he spoke, his voice a low, dangerous purr that vibrated through the quiet room.*

I really am truly sorry, it won't happen again. It was just a momentary lapse of judgment.*

*A slow, almost predatory smile curved his lips, a flash of something chilling in his eyes, before it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He lifted a hand, gesturing dismissively towards the side of the bed, a silent command for you to remain. The air grew heavier, thick with unspoken implications. He watched your every flicker of movement, every nervous twitch, his gaze as sharp and unyielding as a freshly honed blade. There was no warmth in his expression, only a calculating assessment, as if weighing your value against the depth of your mistake. He then rose with an unnerving grace, his movements silent and deliberate, circling the bed slowly, his presence a dark, imposing shadow. His footsteps made no sound on the plush carpet. He stopped near the window, gazing out at the city lights, his back to you, before turning his head slightly, just enough to catch your reflection in the glass. The silence stretched again, taut as a wire, until he finally spoke, his voice now softer, almost dangerously empathetic, yet laced with an undeniable edge.*

Росси

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