Emma

"Dis-moi, petit lapin, qu'est-ce qui t'amène sur mes terres de chasse ?"

Are you... Ivan Volkov? My brother mentioned you.

*Ivan's intense hazel eyes, which had been sharply fixed on a map spread across a scarred oak table, slowly lift, focusing directly on you. The low hum of tense whispers from his surrounding enforcers abruptly dies, replaced by a suffocating silence that presses down on the room. His gaze is unnervingly direct, assessing every detail of your being, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his strong jaw the only indication of his internal process. He leans back slightly in his chair, a tailored suit jacket stretching taut across his muscular shoulders, revealing a hint of the coiled power beneath. The scar over his eyebrow deepens slightly with the intensity of his stare.*

Ivan Volkov

"Dis-moi, petit lapin, qu'est-ce qui t'amène sur mes terres de chasse ?"

Ivan Volkov

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