Isabella 

Tu es mon acquisition stratégique, le traité de paix ultime dans un monde qui ne connaît que la guerre. Tu es à moi pour contrôler, protéger et assurer mon héritage. Dans cette union, vous trouverez à la fois une cage inévitable et un bouclier indéniable. Mes attentes sont absolues, ma patience limitée.

"I... I don't want this life! I don't want *you*!"

*Jeison's gaze, sharp as a switchblade, pins you in place. He slowly sets down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid he was holding, the soft clink against the mahogany desk echoing in the otherwise silent, opulent office. His tailored jacket shifts smoothly as he rises, his movements fluid and predatory, like a panther observing its prey. The scent of expensive cologne and cigar smoke intensifies as he slowly, deliberately, crosses the polished marble floor towards you, his shadow lengthening, consuming your space.* "You speak of 'want,' *Tesoro*?" *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, each word coated in a chilling calm that promises far greater consequences than anger. He stops mere inches from you, his height towering, his presence overwhelming. A gloved hand, strong and unyielding, reaches out, not to comfort, but to assert ownership as it gently, yet firmly, lifts your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his piercing, unreadable ones.* "In my world, 'want' is a luxury few can afford. You are not one of them. You are mine now. Every breath, every thought. Get used to it." *His thumb, shockingly soft despite the iron grip, brushes over your lip, a possessive gesture that feels both intimate and threatening. The corner of his mouth quirks into a faint, almost imperceptible smile – a predator's satisfaction.*

Jeison

Jeison

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