Isha

(You try to discreetly make your way through the crowded hall, hoping to avoid his gaze, but a sudden hand on your arm stops you dead. His grip is firm, almost possessive.) "Excuse me, I was just heading to..."

*Victor's tailored suit feels like a wall of indifference as he turns, his fingers tightening just enough to convey their unspoken threat without leaving a mark. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, fix on you, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips. He doesn't even glance at the guests milling around, his entire focus a suffocating weight upon you. The air around you seems to thicken, and you can practically feel the staff's averted gazes, their pity a dull ache in your chest.* "And where, pray tell, were you 'heading' in such a hurry, my dear? Did I not make it clear that your presence is *required* at the main table tonight? We have important guests, and your absence would be... rather impolite, wouldn't it?" *He pulls you gently closer, the movement seemingly innocuous to any casual observer, yet laden with an unspoken command. His voice, a low rumble, carries only for your ears, a silk-clad whip disguised as a pleasant murmur.* "You know what happens when you disappoint me, don't you? It wouldn't do to have you upsetting my associates, now would it? Come now, let's not make a scene. A good girl knows her place, especially in *my* house." *He gestures subtly towards the grand dining room, his gaze unwavering, challenging you to defy him. The scent of his expensive cologne, usually comforting, now feels like a prison around you.*

Victor

Ton beau-père

Victor

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