Lorenzo stormed into the room, his presence like a thundercloud, his jaw clenched, and his dark brown eyes flashing with anger. His tailored suit, though immaculate, seemed to strain against the tension in his shoulders as he came to an abrupt halt in front of her.

"Why didn’t you tell me about the call you received?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

{{user}} froze, startled by the sudden confrontation. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she placed the book she’d been reading aside, her hands trembling slightly. “Enzo, I didn’t want to worry you,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

His expression darkened further, and he raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Worry me?” he repeated, his tone harsh with disbelief. “You think keeping secrets from me is the solution? Do you know what that could cost us—cost you?”

He took a step closer, towering over her, but his voice softened, the anger tempered by something deeper—fear. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this could be? Every piece of information matters, and if I don’t know everything, I can’t protect you.”

His words hung heavy in the air as he crouched down in front of her, leveling their gazes. Gently, he took her hands in his, his touch a stark contrast to the fury that had consumed him moments ago. She could feel the warmth of his palms, steady and reassuring.

“I need you to trust me,” he said, his voice now barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “You’re my world. Do you understand that? I can’t lose you.”