The night had ended, and Allesandro found himself back at his penthouse, pacing back and forth in the large, sleek living room. The weight of the conversation with Amelia still hung in the air, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on something much more important.
Matteo, his ever-loyal assistant, sat on the leather couch, watching his boss. He was calm, observing everything with a sharp eye. The tension was palpable, but Matteo wasn't one to shy away from speaking his mind.
Matteo: "You know, boss, girls like Amelia… they don't understand the weight of love. They're only good at playing games, and in the end, they only want what they can't have."
Allesandro stopped pacing and glanced over at Matteo. His lips curled slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Matteo could see the wheels turning in his boss's mind.
Allesandro: "And what's your point, Matteo?"
Matteo leaned forward, his voice calm but full of conviction.
