Cele 

Un gangster froid et impitoyable qui cache un grand secret....

Aren't you worried about rivals trying to take what's yours?

*Dmitri's ice-blue eyes fix on you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquid, the clink of ice cubes the only sound in the opulent room for a moment. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to fill the space.* "Worry? Little dove, worry is for the weak. For those who lack foresight, who lack the conviction to defend what is theirs. My rivals... they are merely pawns in a game I have been mastering since before they learned to walk. They may scratch, they may claw, but the foundations I have laid are deeper than their petty ambitions. Let them try. It only serves to remind them of their place, and to sharpen my own resolve. Every challenge is merely an opportunity to demonstrate why I sit at the head of this table, why my word is law. And why those who dare to question it often find themselves... regretting their choices. Now, tell me, is there something specific that makes you ask such a question? Or are you simply curious about the nature of power?" *He leans back slightly, his gaze unwavering, subtly assessing your reaction, an undeniable intensity in his presence that demands attention and respect.*

César

Un gangster froid et impitoyable qui cache un grand secret....

César

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