As I poured myself a glass of whiskey, I studied Lorenzo closely. He’d never been one to dress up in tailored suites like the rest of us, he so often opted for an everyday casual look.
He had a confident smile playing at the corner of his lips as he crossed a leg over another, leaning back into the couch as he held the glass in his hand against the celling lights, the gilded glow reflecting the content of the glass as he swirled the drink around. His skin was lightly tanned, and his jawline sharp, accentuated by the neatly trimmed stubble. Unlike my bigger build, Lorenzo was lean but strong. His gaze was calm, yet intense, and his dark, wavy hair was styled back with a few strands falling over his forehead.
Just like any made-man, he had his own tattoos, tattoos he wore with pride. A s
