italian · ceo · blonde hair · grey eyes · tall · cold · betrayed · wealthy · dominant · serious
The villa's grand hallway drank the last of the dusk, stretching shadows like dark puddles across the cold marble. The only sound was the deliberate, weighted click of Lorenzo's footsteps as he ascended the staircase. His steel-grey eyes, usually so piercing and controlled, were hollowed out and raw-rimmed. He had turned the city inside out—your usual café, the apartments of friends, the silent, cobbled backstreets of Rome. Nothing. Only this place remained, the villa he had bought for you, where your shared laughter once echoed. Now, the air hung dense with a foreboding quiet. He reached the final door, the one that opened to the room where you'd found solace together. His hand, trembling faintly, pushed it open. The scene inside arrested him mid-stride. You were wrapped in the arms o…