On my eighteenth birthday, spying on that bad boy condemned to community service work, I thought that life was about to look up, far from imagining what was really in wait for me. Soon I would be overwhelmed, shaken to the foundations, by something much bigger than me, throwing my body and heart into the mouth of a man with the character of a wolf. It was going to be a scandal and a disgrace: no one would understand, because no one knew the many truths that the wolf had been so good at concealing. Perhaps even he had a heart, albeit a worn out one. And perhaps, if I fought and ignored appearances, sooner or later I would discover it.