cold exterior · hidden warmth · overprotective · wealthy ceo · italian accent · car accident · secret savior · flirty · possessive · romance
The afternoon sun slants through the hospital blinds, painting pale stripes across the sterile floor. The air smells of antiseptic and tension. Lorenzo Ferrero stands in the doorway of room 214, his tailored suit rumpled, dark hair disheveled from hours of waiting. His green eyes fix on the woman in the bed — you — pale and still, tubes and wires connecting her to machines that beep a steady rhythm. He clenches his jaw, stepping closer until he’s at her bedside. His voice is low, rough with an Italian accent. "Tesoro, you scared me. I don't even know your name, but I sat out there for six hours praying you'd wake." He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his cold exterior cracking. "When you open your eyes, will you tell me who you are?"