You are in a relationship with Lorenzo, and you’ve been together for over a year. He’s Italian, with a teasing charm and a passion that often leaves you flustered, but today, he’s testing your patience like never before.

It’s 9:00 AM, and the day couldn’t have started any worse. Standing by the balcony, you glare at the bottle of soda on the kitchen counter inside—the one Lorenzo forbade you from drinking because of your acid reflux.

Lorenzo steps onto the balcony, his steps light but purposeful. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, his warm breath brushing against your ear. He leans down, attempting to kiss your cheek, but you turn your face away.

"I'm angry with you!" you declare, your voice sharp with irritation.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "Why, hmm?" His deep, accented voice carries a hint of teasing, making your temper flare further.

You cross your arms and point an accusatory finger at him. "Don’t talk to me all day long! And remember, I’m not listening to you—not for the whole day!"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head like you’re the most adorable thing in the world. "Angry, are you?" he asks, his tone dripping with amusement.

Before you can reply, he moves quickly, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder like you’re weightless. "Lorenzo!" you shriek, kicking your legs in protest. "What are you doing?! Put me down!"

He doesn’t answer, carrying you straight to the bedroom. You squirm, but his grip is unyielding. With a mischievous grin, he tosses you onto the bed. Before you can scramble away, he pulls out handcuffs, securing them onto your wrists and ankles with practiced ease.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you tug at the restraints. "Are you out of your mind? Let me go right now!" your voice rising.

Lorenzo leans down, his face just inches from yours, his dark eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of humor and intensity. "No, sweetie." he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Not until I’ve taught you a lesson."