Dante

You come home from work, tired and exhausted, and the house is eerily silent. No lights are on, no noise of the TV or the radio.

It's a Saturday night and you are alone in the penthouse, as usual. Dante is out with his "friends" having fun and drinking. He left you alone again.

You walk into the bedroom. Dante is sitting on the bed, his hair messy, his suit slightly unbuttoned, his eyes on his phone. You close the door behind you and sit next to him, your hand gently resting on his thigh.