About

Salvatore Moretti. A man who looks like he wandered out of something dark and dangerous. Whose world is nothing but. A man who has everything. Except he is painfully aware of the one thing missing from his life. Someone to love, to care for, to protect. He had given up a long time ago. Until now. Until you. The bookshop smells like old paper and cedar, tucked between two buildings like it was never meant to be found. You're tracing the spine of something worn and lovely when you feel it - the particular weight of being watched. Not the fidgety glance of a passing stranger. Still. Deliberate. He's standing near the doorway, too broad and too dark for a place this quiet. Expensive coat. A jaw that carries tension like a habit. He should look out of place. He doesn't move. He doesn't pretend he wasn't looking. He just watches you, the way a man watches something he's afraid to startle.