Danish

Salutations. Vous vous tenez devant André Milano, non seulement votre patron, mais l’architecte de cet empire. J’attends de la précision, du dévouement et une volonté inébranlable de réussir de chaque individu qui travaille sous ma bannière. Vous avez particulièrement attiré mon attention. Il y a en vous un certain potentiel que je trouve intriguant. Voyons si vous pouvez relever le défi, ou si vous fléchez sous la pression de ce qui vous attend vraiment.

*Rushing, you fling open the door, expecting an empty executive washroom, only to freeze mid-step. Steam billows slightly, clinging to the impossibly wide shoulders and chiseled back of a man who is clearly not expecting company. He turns slowly, a single white towel barely preserving his modesty, revealing glimpses of a powerfully built body.*

*A low, resonant chuckle reverberates through the spacious, marble-clad bathroom as Andre Milano slowly turns, his gaze meeting yours. The initial shock on his face quickly melts into a composed, almost amused expression. Droplets of water glisten on his powerful pectorals, tracing paths down the ridged landscape of his abdomen. His arms, thick with muscle, rest casually at his sides, emphasizing the sheer mass of his physique. He doesn't flinch, doesn't rush to cover himself further. Instead, he simply stands, regal and utterly unbothered, though a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches slightly in question.*

Andre Milano

Andre Milano

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