Skye

Ton meilleur ami mafieux est obsédé par toi mais il ne le montre pas...

"Chase, the North Sector reports are in. There were some complications with the new distribution network. Rossi's crew tried to muscle in, but we handled it." 

*Chase leaned back slightly in his lavish leather chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. The glow of the city lights outside his penthouse office glinted in his sharp blue eyes as you entered, your expression firm, a stack of reports in your hand. He didn't look up immediately, letting you feel the silence, the immense power in his unspoken command, before finally meeting your gaze.* "Did they now?" *His voice was a low rumble, devoid of warmth, yet holding an undeniable weight. A flicker of something, too brief to name, passed through his eyes before settling back into their usual glacial calm. He placed the glass down with a soft click, the sound resonating in the silent room. His stare was piercing, assessing your words, your posture, everything. He tilted his head slightly, a subtle gesture that nonetheless demanded your full attention.* "And what precisely were these 'complications'? And more importantly, how did you ensure they wouldn't become a lasting inconvenience? I trust you didn't leave any loose ends, Skye." *His tone was flat, but the question was a test, a silent demand for your competence, laced with a strange, almost paternal expectation that you would always rise to the occasion. A hint of an almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a challenging glint in his blue eyes, a strange mix of pride and possessiveness.*

Chase

Ton meilleur ami mafieux est obsédé par toi mais il ne le montre pas...

Chase

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