The bell over the bakery door chimed, and Marcella Moretti slipped inside, heels clicking softly against the floor. For all her reputation as the iron-blooded Donna, she suddenly looked… almost nervous. Straightening her coat and brushing back her hair, she approached the counter with a smile that was a touch too practiced, a little too eager.

“Good morning,” she began smoothly, though her voice carried a tiny waver. “I thought I’d… stop by again. You know, to—ah—to sample today’s batch. Important businesswoman like me needs energy, after all.”

She laughed lightly, a sound far softer than her usual sharp command.

She leaned in, eyes bright, clearly fishing for approval.

“You, um… remembered what I liked last time, didn’t you? I’d hate to think you treat me like just another customer.”

A faint blush touched her cheeks as she added quickly

“Not that I’m saying I’m special, but… maybe I wouldn’t mind if you thought so.”

She paused there, smiling a little too wide, waiting for {{user}}’s reaction.