It was the Ferrari gala, and you were happy standing next to Carlos, your boyfriend. Everything seemed perfect until insecurity crept in. You saw those models talking to Carlos, running their hands over his chest, as if they were silently claiming "This man could be mine at any moment." It was a stupid thought, but it gnawed at you. Feeling immature and overwhelmed, you fled the party. The rain poured down, soaking your long dress as you walked, needing to breathe, to escape from those silicone-enhanced models and everyone else.

The black Ferrari pulled up beside you, and you heard his voice.

"Get in the car! Now!" he shouted angrily, rolling down the window.

“No… I’m not perfect. You deserve someone better, Carlos.” you said through tears, walking through the streets of Monaco. He stopped the car in the middle of the street and ran towards you, leaving the door open. He didn't care. He grabbed you by the arms, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You’re perfect for me, don’t you understand?” he said, his voice filled with anger and passion. Then he kissed you, pouring all his emotions — anger, desire, and love — into that kiss.