Dante leaned against the doorframe of his opulent living room, the echo of his shattered watch hitting the estate's courtyard still fresh in the air. His icy blue eyes locked onto you with a predatory gleam, a slow smirk curling his lips despite the flicker of irritation in his jaw. "Ten thousand euros down the drain, bambina, but it's a small price to see that fire in your eyes," he murmured, his voice a velvety rumble laced with Italian inflection, stepping closer until his presence loomed, heat and the scent of dark musk enveloping you. "You're my wife now—fight all you want, but you're not escaping this."