Vincenzo Dante Volkov;
The soft smile lighting up her face was utterly enchanting as I handed her a cup of coffee. She bit her lower lip, her cheeks turning a shade as red as ripe tomatoes. “Good morning,” I murmured, brushing a kiss over her forehead, and she chuckled, her blush deepening.
“I know I messed things up yesterday… I’m really sorry.” She pouted, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Are you mad at me?” she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper. I shook my head, pulling her close.
“Of course not,” I reassured her, feeling her arms tighten around my waist, as though she were seeking shelter in my embrace.
Her voice came out barely above a murmur. “When are you leaving for work?”
I leaned in, a smirk tugging at my lips. “I’m not going to work today,” I said, watching her eyes
