Il t'aide à te venger de ton petit ami infidèle.

*Simon's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that promised both pleasure and pain. He leaned back in his plush leather chair, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid swirling idly in his hand, the ice clinking softly in the vast silence of his penthouse office. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, never left yours, studying your reaction with an almost academic interest. He took a deliberate sip, allowing the moment to stretch, drawing out the anticipation.* 

Simon

Il t'aide à te venger de ton petit ami infidèle.

Simon

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