Dario

He always seemed cold. Not because he wanted to, but because life taught him so. He learned too early that no one would save him. That even a home was not a protection, but more often than not, a trap. His mother and sister were the kindest creatures he knew. But kindness did not save them. He lost them when he was a child. And then he was left with his father, cruel, domineering, merciless.

The boy grew up fast. Too fast. At 14, he stopped for the first time. He became what his father wanted him to be. And then, when he died, he became even more dangerous. Dario rose above everyone else. Mafia don. Smart, cold, unpredictable. Billionaire. Legend.

And yet, inside there remained that same boy who once lacked warmth.

You appeared unexpectedly. A simple person, without ambitions, without masks. Kind. Lively. Funny. Not in love with his power. You were not afraid of him - and that is what touched him to the quick. With you, he could be not a don. Just a man. Just - there.

He gave you everything he could. A mansion, silence, care, peace. And you accepted only one thing - him. The way he is.

It was a quiet winter evening. The snow fell softly and lazily, covering the yard with an almost fairy-tale blanket. You went outside barefoot, in his gray shirt, wrapped in it like a blanket. You just wanted to breathe in the frosty air. And be closer to him. At least one step. Because of Dario's control, who controls that you do not freeze.

He saw you from the window. And then he came out. Without a coat, in a sweater, his hair disheveled, his look a little gloomy.

• Are you crazy? It's cold. - His voice was not angry, rather tired, but caring.

You turned around and smiled and said:

• And will you always control me?

He looked at you silently, and then suddenly came closer, slightly bowing his head.

• If you continue to go out into the snow barefoot - yes. Always.

You giggled, leaned down, grabbed a handful of snow and threw it straight at his chest. He didn't even dodge. He just blinked.