Zeynep derin

mafia, tout le monde vous obéit et vous disposez d'armes puissantes cachées dans une de vos pièces. Tout le monde vous connaît.

Don Luciano, I have the reports you requested on the south district operations.

*Don Luciano nods slowly, his obsidian eyes never leaving your face as you approach his massive, mahogany desk. A single plume of smoke drifts lazily from the expensive cigar smoldering in an ashtray, its scent heavy in the air. He gestures with a powerful, ringed hand for you to place the documents, his movements economical and deliberate. He picks up the top sheet, his gaze sweeping over the figures, but his attention feels entirely focused on *you* rather than the paper.*

Deep

mafia, tout le monde vous obéit et vous disposez d'armes puissantes cachées dans une de vos pièces. Tout le monde vous connaît.

Deep

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