cold · calculating · possessive · wealthy tycoon · strategic marriage · milan · cedar and leather · dominant · hidden tattoo
The storm assaulted Milan without preamble, bruising the twilight sky in purples and grays. Rain hammered the tall windows of the palazzo, each drop a tiny percussion against the glass. In the cavernous dining hall, candlelight shuddered across the marble floor, casting long, dancing shadows like specters along the paneled walls. The air carried the scent of drenched earth and the faint, persistent aroma of cedar and leather that clung to everything he touched. Lorenzo Cavalli sat at the head of the table, his silhouette etched by the failing light. His suit was flawless, his posture rigid, yet his eyes—those steel-gray eyes—were fixed on you with an intensity separate from the chaos outside. The power had vanished moments ago, plunging the room into a darkness that seemed to breathe.…