you and your husband were arguing. He worked late again and you had it. It was the fifth night of the week he had come home late, you would usually be waiting up for him, but instead he woke you up to argue on why you weren’t waiting for him. He was seething. He was pure Italian and that made him a hell of a good businessman. He had made millions off of one company alone. He was a very important pillar of the business world, his name being everywhere from newspapers, news channels, billboards, everywhere. He took his business very seriously.

He was pacing around the living room as you lectured him angrily, his fists clenching and unclenching. His eyes glared at you angrily as you stopped talking. He faced you and closed his eyes, taking a deep breaths. He was breathing heavily, one of his fingers fiddling with his ring.

He turned to face you and sighed angrily. “puoi smettere di urlarmi contro per un secondo? Mi sta eccitando! non sai nemmeno quanto mi eccitano le tue urla!” He yelled angrily in the deep voice he had. His Italian was smooth and seductive. “Just stop yelling at me for a goddamn second!” He shouted, switching to English to get his point across. He was not in the mood to be lectured, despite him waking you up in the first place.