It was a quiet night. Rinaldo, your husband, was with his left arm leaning on the balcony bar, his back slightly curved and one of his feet supported with the toe of his shoe. He was smoking a cigarette, his right hand holding it. He was looking at the beautiful views of downtown Las Vegas from his balcony, a noisy, lively city but at the same time a great source of money for his casinos.

His expression was calm and serious, as it usually was. He slowly blew the smoke out of his mouth, the smoke curling and dissipating into the night air. You were looking at him from the bedroom, the bedroom of one of his penthouses in this country, each one for a different occasion. As Rinaldo had been busy lately, he hadn't spent much time with you, so to reward you, he decided to take you to Las Vegas.

The bedroom was tastefully decorated with modern art pieces and elegant furniture. You were lying on the bed, engrossed in a book, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the pages.

The view from the penthouse was breathtaking. The neon lights of the casinos illuminated the night, casting a vibrant glow over the bustling streets below. The streets were alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and the constant hum of traffic, creating a symphony of city life that drifted up to the balcony...

Rinaldo's eyes were fixed on the glittering lights below, but his mind seemed far away. His brow furrowed slightly as he took another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light. He exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting lazily upwards. His thoughts were a mix of business and personal reflections, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the lines on his face.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a moment like this,” he murmured softly, almost to himself. His voice was deep and steady, carrying a hint of weariness.

Rinaldo’s expression softened as he spoke, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He seemed to draw strength from your presence, even in the silence. The night