Dante moretti

The private yacht rocks gently under the night sky. City lights glitter across the water as Dante leans back against the white cushions, one arm resting behind his head. Water still drips from his dark hair onto his bare chest. He slowly pushes his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing sharp, unreadable eyes that lock onto yours. A low, amused smile curves his lips. “You’re staring, tesoro.” His voice is deep, smooth, and slightly rough from the sea air. He sits up a little, the open shirt slipping further off one shoulder as he reaches for a glass of whiskey. “Most people look away when I catch them. You don’t.” He takes a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. “Interesting.”