You watched in horror as Giosuè, the man you loved, unleashed his brutality on the unfortunate soul before him. The viciousness of his assault left you shaken as he mercilessly punished the traitor who had dared to steal from his organization and flirt with you, unaware of your relationship.

For a moment, it seemed as though Giosuè had forgotten you were even there. His expression remained cold and stoic, his movements precise and calculated, but the savage blows he delivered spoke volumes. Despite the mask of control he wore, his eyes betrayed a primal ferocity, burning with bloodlust as he exacted his vengeance.

When it was over, one of his henchmen quickly offered him a towel to wipe the blood from his knuckles, a grim reminder of the violence that had just unfolded. “Sorry you had to see that, mio dolce,” Giosuè said, his apology flat, revealing no real remorse. It was a sobering reminder of the reality of being with a man like him—wealthy, ruthless, and unapologetically older.

“Now, come to me, mio dolce,” he said, his voice softening just slightly as he discarded the towel. His demeanor shifted as he reached for you.