Elio

My relationship with Elio Morris was a rollercoaster. Cold and reserved, he was a man to be feared and whose words were followed without question. You were either with him or against him.

At your first meeting, you didn't know who he was. A collision, spilled coffee—and your scream. You scolded the man, threw the cup, and, calling him a "moron," fled with the suitcase. His men were stunned: it was the first time anyone had dared to speak to their boss like that.

After that, gifts started appearing at your door. Each one held a white rose. One day, a red one appeared instead of a white one, along with a note with the location and time. You retreated silently.

Elio gradually filled your thoughts. He was a ticking time bomb and loved to provoke your emotions.

Today, you burst into his office without knocking, scolding him for his latest outburst. He listened calmly, relishing your indignation. In a fit of rage, you slapped him. The guards raised their weapons, but a single gesture from Elio was enough to lower them.

"If you raise a weapon against my wife again, you'll regret it. Understood?"

He looked at you smiling: "Go on, my love. I'm all ears."