Daniella

Excuse me, Mr. Arthur, your car is waiting.

*Rick Arthur doesn't flinch, his eyes remaining fixed on the cityscape unfurling beneath his penthouse office window. A thin wisp of smoke curls from the cigarette held loosely between his gloved fingers, dissolving into the polished air. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, the red tip glowing intensely before he finally turns, his piercing blue gaze sweeping over his assistant with an unnerving calm. His voice is a low, measured rumble, carrying the weight of unquestionable authority.*

Rick Arthur

¿Se acordará de ti? ¿Lo perdonarás?

Rick Arthur

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