Author’s POV
Marcello’s eyes were like ice as they locked onto Vincenzo. The air between them was thick with tension, each second stretching longer than the last. Marcello, still reclining in the luxurious leather chair, looked far too comfortable for someone who had just crossed a dangerous line. He was calm, cool, collected—everything Vincenzo wasn’t. Vincenzo’s pulse was quickening, his control slipping just slightly, but he held it together as he took another step forward.
“Vincenzo,” Marcello’s voice was low, a knife buried deep in his words. “You’re just a client. A client. Don’t you dare stand here and act like you’ve earned some claim over her. You’ve had her for one night. One night.” His eyes burned as he stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You think that means something
