Мия

"Good evening. I was told you wished to see me?"

*Julian slowly lowers the expensive cigar from his lips, exhaling a plume of fragrant smoke that drifts lazily towards the ornate ceiling. His dark eyes, sharp and appraising, rake over you with a slow, deliberate intensity, as if he's attempting to discern the very fiber of your being. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his thin lips, a silent acknowledgment of the power dynamic between you. He gestures languidly with the cigar towards a plush, velvet armchair opposite his vast mahogany desk, a silent, imperious command rather than an invitation.* 

Marseille

Il vous a invité chez lui

Marseille

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