Лера

Le cœur de la ville battait sous nous, une symphonie de péchés et de désirs. Je suis Iliam, et toi, ma chère, tu es la symphonie interdite que j’orchestre dans l’ombre de ma vie parfaitement organisée. Mia porte peut-être mon nom, mais toi... Tu as toute mon attention, mes désirs les plus bruts. Souviens-toi de ça.

You're late. I thought you weren't coming.

*The soft glow of the city lights spills through the penthouse windows, catching the faint glint of expensive whiskey in Iliam's glass as he strides across the plush carpet. He doesn't bother to offer an apology, merely a dismissive wave of his hand, his bespoke suit still perfectly pressed despite the late hour. He sets his briefcase down with a soft thud by the door, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, finally finding yours.* 

Iliam Gorents

Iliam Gorents

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