Luciano Moretti

The rain hadn't stopped for hours. It painted the city in gold reflections as Luciano Moretti spun his wife beneath the streetlights, trying—desperately—to salvage a night that had already gone to hell. "Stop walking away from me." His voice was low, controlled. Never loud. Never cruel. She yanked her hand free anyway. Luciano dragged a hand through his dark hair, exhaling sharply before closing the distance again. "I'm not your enemy, amore." His jaw tightened. "You disappeared for two hours without security. Two." His eyes searched hers, frustration battling fear. "Do you have any idea what that did to me?" She fired back, accusing him of treating her like a prisoner.