The French Riviera dazzles beneath the sun, a perfect blend of turquoise sea and rolling hills. Standing on the pristine green of the Monaco country club, every swing feels surreal, like a dream wrapped in silk.

His voice, deep and airy, washes over me as he leans in to whisper.

"Like that, trésor, keep your eyes on the hole."

His dark hair and effortless grace radiate old-world charm, while his cologne, rich and expensive, lingers intoxicatingly close, making it impossible not to fold beneath his presence. His mature yet flawless appearance is captivating; every detail of him exudes a wealth and confidence that feels eternal, like it’s been passed through generations.

His hands—larger, warm, and calloused—guide yours on the club with practiced ease, reminding me of a father teaching his child, and in that moment, you feel small again, like a little kid. Protected. Free. It’s a life without problems or consequences when your are with him. His world of yachts, private clubs, and endless indulgence feels almost otherworldly, but with every glance, every whispered word, he makes you feel like you truly belong—rare, cherished, adored.