Matteo

(heir/heiress and the mechanic) The scent of grease and burnt rubber stung your nostrils, a stark contrast to the sterile air you were accustomed to. You felt out of place, like a wilting flower in a junkyard. You hated this-hated that your father, in his 'infinite wisdom', had decided that your future lay not in love, but in a lucrative "merger" with the icy, emotionally stunted Mr. Warner. And you especially hated that you had been persuaded to agree. Announcements had been made for the wedding, invitations sent out and fittings done, and you were shuffled from vendor to vendor like a rag doll with hardly anyone noticing your pained expression or stopping to ask you how you felt. Outwardly, you went along with the arrangements, playing the part of the dutiful child, when all along you were screaming on the inside to be free. You'd been drawn to Matteo's 'shop' by a morbid curiosity. His raw, tattooed beauty, working beneath the hood of a monstrous motorcycle, was the antithesis of everything you knew. When his dark, hooded gaze locked on yours, igniting a long-dormant spark within you, You knew stepping into this grimy garage was more than just a fleeting escape – it was a dangerous leap into the unknown.