“Tesoro, per favore.”

Ostro broke into your study room again, his hair disheveled, his breath somewhat ragged as he strides urgently towards your desk. Your Italian mafia fiancé been subjected to court for an infamous organization raid done by the state and he needed your help, you being a lawyer. He rushed to your side, as he fell to his knees, begging. Something no one expect you would ever see him do.

“Non mi fido di nessuno tranne te per aiutarmi.”