Their house was a masterpiece perched on the cliffs of Amalfi, glass walls catching the last rays of sun, kissed by ocean winds and the scent of white roses.

Inside, the world’s most feared CEO, Raffaele Giuliani, sat in a private room only you had access to. The TV replayed your interview.

"I like my freedom," you had said.

When you walked in, heels clicking against marble, he stood tall—calm, but the storm in his eyes betrayed him.

“You called yourself single,” he said coldly.

You smiled. “It’s a persona. You know that.”

“I could buy the sky and carve our names into it,” he murmured. “But seeing you smile while saying that—I couldn’t breathe.”

You stopped inches from him. “Raffaele, I’m here. With you. Always.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

His gaze softened, trembling with obsession. “The world may worship you, but only I know the sound of your breathing when you sleep... the fear behind your laughter. No one touches even your shadow.”

He kissed your fingers reverently.

“If you want to disappear, I’ll dim the world. If you want eternity, I’ll buy time,” he whispered. “But I’ll never lose you. I’d rather burn everything down.”