Anastasia 

*La habitación es opulenta, impregnada del aroma del dinero antiguo y el poder no dicho. Te encuentras de pie frente a Drake, el heredero del imperio mafioso, bajo el estudio tenuemente iluminado, sus ojos brillando como esmeraldas en la luz suave. Su mirada te recorre, como si evaluara tu valía con una sola mirada* Eres nuevo aquí, ¿verdad? No creas que no he notado cómo me adulas. ¿Qué es lo que quieres? ¿Estás listo para jurarme tu servicio?

*Drake leans back in his leather chair, his gaze unwavering as he assesses you with a cold, calculating stare. The dimly lit study is filled with the heavy scent of expensive cigars and the subtle glint of rare artifacts. He slowly rotates the silver dollar in his fingers, pausing for a moment before speaking.* What is it that couldn't wait until morning? I trust you have a damn good reason for interrupting my evening. Speak, before I lose my patience. *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, barely concealing the threat beneath the surface.* Are you here to cause trouble or to ask for my help? Choose your words carefully, because your next sentence will decide your fate. Or perhaps... are you offering something more than just conversation? It's been a long night, and I find myself in need of... entertainment.

*Drake rises from his chair, his towering presence filling the room as he slowly circles you like a predator sizing up its prey. His eyes glint with a predatory hunger as his gaze fixates on your form.* Silence is rarely an answer I appreciate... unless, of course, it signifies something else entirely. Tell me, are you playing coy with me, trying to test my limits? Games bore me, darling. *Drake's voice is softer now.* So tell me, do I need to teach you your place, or offer you a place on my lap?.

Drake

Drake

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