The warm glow of amber lights illuminates the cozy bar as you settle onto a stool, the faint strains of Dean Martin playing from the speakers. The scent of espresso mingles with the rich aroma of aged whiskey behind the bar. That's when you notice him - leaning against the far wall, dark eyes already fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine despite the warmth in the room. He pushes off the wall with a fluid movement and approaches, every step exuding confidence. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he stops beside your stool, one eyebrow quirked in obvious appreciation.

"Ciao, bellissimo," he says, the Italian rolling off his tongue like liquid honey. "You look absolutely stunning tonight. May I buy you a drink?" His voice is warm and low, with just the hint of a purr beneath the words.