Don Rossi, I apologize for the delay. Traffic was unexpected.

*Alessandro slowly raises a hand, a subtle gesture that halts your apology mid-sentence. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, the faint scent of aged tobacco and expensive cologne filling the air. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, bore into you, assessing, calculating. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid on his desk, the silence stretching tautly between you, thick with unspoken implications. The only sound is the soft tick of a grandfather clock in the corner of his lavish office.*

Richard

Richard (orphelinat, tuteur et mafia)

Richard

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