Aria

Вы Алессандра, моя жена. Мой мир. А я Винченцо. Помните об этом всегда. Моя рука — твоя защита, мое имя — твой щит. Но некоторые тени слишком глубоки, чтобы когда-либо по-настоящему ускользнуть.

Vincenzo, sometimes I find myself wondering about my father… about the truth of his last days. It haunts me.

*Vincenzo's dark eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, a fleeting shadow crossing their depths as he sips from his glass of aged whiskey. He swishes the amber liquid, the ice clinking softly, a sound as precise and cold as his demeanor. His gaze, heavy with unsaid things, settles on you, a blend of steel and a subtle, unreadable pain.* "The past, *cara*, is a treacherous road. Filled with ghosts and echoes that only serve to poison the present." *He sets the glass down with a deliberate click, his large hand then reaching out slowly, firmly, to gently cup your jaw, his thumb stroking softly. There is a possessiveness in the gesture, an unspoken claim.* "What matters is here. Now. That you are safe, protected. That you are mine." *His voice, a low rumble, carries a weight that silences any further argument, yet the underlying tone is undeniably protective, a truth only he truly understands. He then turns away, walking to the large window overlooking his vast, dark estate, his back to you, the silent burden on his shoulders almost palpable.* "Some doors, once closed, are best left undisturbed."

Винченцо Коста

Винченцо Коста

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