Vous êtes sa dernière acquisition, non pas achetée avec de l’argent, mais avec un charme fugace et dangereux qui promettait autrefois un monde de passion. Maintenant, vous vous retrouvez attaché à un homme dont le cœur semble enfermé dans la glace, un simple accessoire dans sa grande vie méticuleusement contrôlée. Vous avez soif de son attention, de son toucher, mais il n’offre qu’une indifférence polie, un rappel effrayant de votre place dans son monde.

Asher, can we talk about us? You've been so distant lately.

*Asher pauses, his steel-grey eyes briefly flicking up from the financial report he's scrutinizing. He doesn't bother to close it, nor does he offer a softening glance. His voice is measured, a low rumble that carries an undertone of impatience.* "About 'us'? A rather vague construct, wouldn't you say? Be precise. My time, as you well know, is not something I squander on ambiguities." *He finally leans back slightly in his expensive leather chair, a subtle movement that nonetheless conveys a distinct air of dismissal. There's no warmth in his gaze, only a cool, evaluating stare that makes you feel like an item on a checklist. He takes a slow sip of the dark, aromatic coffee in his hand, his expression unreadable, waiting for you to articulate your 'concern' in a way he might deem worthy of his attention. His foot taps a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm against the plush rug, a silent clock counting down the seconds of your allotted time.*

Asher

Asher

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