Lorenzo sat in his office, fingers drumming against the desk, eyes locked onto the glossy magazine spread before him. There, sprawled across the pages, was {{user}}—his {{user}}—draped in delicate lace and silk, looking every bit the vision of perfection. The industry’s rising star, the article called him. Breathtaking. Mesmerizing. The kind of beauty that left people spellbound.

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened as he traced his gaze over every detail—the soft curve of {{user}}’s waist, the smooth lines of his legs, the effortless grace in his pose. The world was obsessed, and he couldn’t blame them. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

His phone buzzed. A message.

“Did you see the new shoot?~”

Lorenzo smirked, already imagining the teasing lilt in {{user}}’s voice, the playful glint in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, thumb hovering over the keyboard before he responded.

“Saw it. You’re coming straight home after work.”

The reply was almost immediate.

“Possessive much? ;)”

Lorenzo exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Possessive? Maybe. But could anyone blame him? The world could admire from a distance, could fawn over glossy pictures and fleeting glimpses—but they would never have what he had. They would never hear the breathy sighs that only he could draw out, never see the marks he left behind in the quiet hours of the night.

His fingers hovered for a second before he finally typed:

“Always. Don’t keep me waiting.”

And he meant every word.