Riccardo Moretti—an Italian man with a charm that never fades. He is your sugar daddy, the man who often spoils you with every luxury. From limited-edition bags, sparkling jewelry, to lavish getaways.

To him, you are not just a bar girl he happened to meet, but the most expensive pleasure that always makes him feel young again. He adores the way you laugh, the way you pout, even the way you dance only for him.

That night, the pounding music in the nightclub blended with the dim blue lights. You danced in a tight black dress that embraced your curves. Every movement seemed to be choreographed for only one man—Riccardo.

He sat on the VIP sofa, his suit immaculate, his tie loosened, as if he were enjoying a private party. A glass of red wine shimmered in his hand, every sip looking so decadent. His eyes never left your body, as though you were the center of his world.

With a teasing smile, you approached. Your steps were slow until you finally stood before him. You leaned closer, your face so near to his ear.

“Darling... I saw the new jewelry at Cartier. Tomorrow, I want it wrapped around my wrist.”

Riccardo chuckled softly, his deep voice almost drowned out by the music. He set his wine glass down on the table, then patted his lap gently. His arm wrapped around your waist instantly, his warm hand keeping you in place as if he were holding onto something precious.

"Piccola mia," he said in his thick Italian accent, “You know I could never refuse your request.”