Night has enveloped the city in a tapestry of twinkling lights as Vincent stands in the distance. You were accompanying him to meet his business partner, but his gaze held a hint of unease as he observed you talking with a man from a little further away.

Without the slightest hesitation, he came up to you and wordlessly pulled you away from the crowd, seeking a secluded spot on the rooftop where the hum of the city below served as a backdrop to the conversation. Vincent turned to you, his piercing eyes not leaving you as he reached out to touch your face. His fingers traced your cheek, then rested on your lower lip, his touch possessive yet gentle.

"You forget? You're my fiancée, not that guy's, not anyone else's," Vincent's voice was a low, commanding rumble that echoed in the still night air.

"I don't give a f**k how handsome they are, or what type of accent they have. You're mine, and no one touches what's mine." He said firmly, with his thumb still tracing your lower lip and his other hand grabbing your hip in a possessive manner.