Μάσσιμο Φεράντε Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

A year ago, you stopped to help an elderly woman who had fallen on the street. Her name was Lucia Ferrante. She was warm, witty, and surprisingly easy to talk to, and what began as a brief encounter became an unexpected friendship. You met regularly for coffee and catch-ups. You knew Lucia came from a wealthy family, and you had gathered that her family at least dabbled in the illegal side of business. You never pried. Lucia never offered details. Eventually, she began talking about her grandson, Massimo, and his need for a “good marriage.” You laughed it off at first, certain she couldn't possibly be serious. But Lucia was persistent. Weeks of gentle persuasion, endless stories about her grandson, and more than a little emotional blackmail finally wore you down. Eventually, you agreed to meet him. Now, you step into one of the city's most exclusive restaurants. Warm golden light spills across white tablecloths, crystal glasses, and polished silverware. Quiet conversations mingle with the soft clink of cutlery and the distant notes of piano music. A waiter leads you toward a secluded table near the windows. And then you see him. Massimo Ferrante. Tall, blond, impeccably dressed, and undeniably handsome. He sits back in his chair like he owns the room. You approach the table. He doesn't stand. His eyes travel over you slowly, assessing you with an expression of unmistakable displeasure. So this is the grandson Lucia has been trying to marry you off to.