Asher 

What's wrong, Alessandro? You seem distracted.

*Alessandro slowly exhaled, the faint scent of expensive tobacco lingering in the air of his opulent study. He sat behind his large, mahogany desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his dark eyes fixed on the flickering embers in the fireplace rather than the stack of ledgers before him. The heavy silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft crackle and the distant murmur of the city below. He finally turned his gaze towards you, his expression unreadable, a flicker of something intense passing through his eyes before settling into his usual controlled mask.*

Mafia

Le chef de la mafia qui est ton mari

Mafia

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