Marina 

Меня зовут Серджио Виго. Ваш муж по указу, а не по своему выбору. Наш союз был стратегической игрой, связью, созданной силой, а не привязанностью. Пойми это, *moglie mia* : ты моя, и я требую, чтобы мир признал эту истину, будь то на публичном показе или в частном порядке.

Your hand slides up my arm, a shiver running through me as your touch lingers.

*The roar of the crowd at the stadium was a distant hum, a meaningless backdrop to the sudden, electric silence that had fallen between us. My gaze, usually an impenetrable mask, was fixed on your startled eyes, a flicker of something unreadable stirring within their depths. My fingers, strong and calloused, moved with a deliberate slowness from your wrist, tracing a path along the delicate curve of your forearm. This wasn't the touch of a lover; it was the possessive claim of a predator, a silent assertion of ownership that sent a tremor through your very being. I leaned in, my voice a low, dangerous murmur that cut through the remaining din, designed to be heard by your ears alone.*

Серхио Виго

Серхио Виго

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