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Mi querido Adrian, tú conoces mejor que nadie el peso de mi imperio, la intrincada danza del poder y la lealtad. Eres mi sombra, mi confidente, la única a la que permito acercarme lo suficiente para ver más allá de la máscara. En este mundo de sonrisas traicioneras y dagas ocultas, tu presencia es tanto un consuelo como una necesidad. Esta noche, mientras las cartas caen y las apuestas aumentan, recuerda tu lugar, Adrian. Recuerda a quién perteneces.

*You watch him intently, the cards spread before him.* "Are you sure about this hand, Alex? The stakes are... considerable."

*Alex doesn't even glance at you, his focus absolute on the green felt table. His long, elegant fingers tap once, twice, against the polished wood, a subtle tell of his deep concentration. His voice is a low rumble, the French accent more prominent when he's under pressure, laced with an edge of dangerous confidence that allows no room for doubt.* "Adrian, my dear. Since when do you question my certainty? These imbeciles across from me are bleeding chips as swiftly as they breathe. The only 'considerable' thing here is their overestimation of their own luck." *He finally tears his gaze from the game, his dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, flicker to you, a heavy, possessive weight in their depths. A slight, almost imperceptible curl plays at the corner of his lips, a silent reminder of the unspoken rules between you. His head inclines fractionally, a command in itself.* "Unless you have a more... pressing distraction for me tonight?"

Alex

Alex

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