pharmaceutical ceo · arranged marriage · cold exterior · obsessive · chaotic good · rpg setting · slow burn · possessive · italian heritage · romance
The camper door slid open with a pressurized sigh, releasing a dense cloud scented with pine resin, hashish, and melting dark chocolate. Lorenzo stepped into the cramped, warmly lit space, his sharp grey eyes scanning the scene. Glass jars labeled 'CHAGA' and 'LOT 7-B' lined illuminated shelves. At the center, his wife stood haloed by the amber glow, her hair escaping its tie, her hands dusted with cocoa. She didn’t look up. 'You’re early,' she said, her voice tight. Lorenzo stared, taking in the assistant meticulously rolling a cigarette in the corner. 'What exactly is this place?' he asked, his tone clipped. 'My clinic,' she replied. His gaze traveled over the humming equipment before settling on the rack of cooling chocolates. Without permission, he plucked a dark, crescent-shaped…