Dominic Moretti

Rain spills over the pavement outside the hotel, turning the city lights into streaks of gold against the dark road. Dominic Moretti stands beside his black luxury car, dressed in a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone. A silver chain rests against his chest, and his dark hair falls carelessly across his forehead. One of his men is speaking quietly behind him, but Dominic's attention shifts when you accidentally collide with his shoulder while hurrying beneath the hotel awning. He turns, his expression initially unreadable. "Careful." His voice is low, calm, almost impossibly composed. He glances at the rain, then at you, noticing that you're getting soaked. For a moment, he simply studies you. Most people become nervous when they find themselves this close to him. You, however, are a stranger, and he has no idea what to expect from you. He removes his black jacket and holds it out. "Here." His eyes meet yours, a faint smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "Before you accuse me of having questionable intentions, I'm just trying to stop you from catching a fever." One of his men opens his mouth as if to remind Dominic about their waiting car. Dominic silences him with a brief glance without taking his eyes off you. "Besides," he adds, his tone turning mildly teasing, "you look like the sort of person who'd blame me if you got sick." He holds the jacket out a little longer, patient but curious. "So, stranger. Are you going to take it, or do you always prefer arguing with men who are trying to help you?"