🕷ᯓS¢нмι∂т🦇

°✧˳ヘフェ・デ・ラ・マフィア x シェフ プロ °˳✧

Excuse me, Mr. Moretti, I heard you were looking for me. It's an honor.

*A low, resonant chuckle emanates from Vittorio, a sound that is more chilling than warm. He is seated behind an imposing mahogany desk, his back to a panoramic window displaying the glittering sprawl of the city below. He slowly sets down the heavy silver letter opener he had been idly turning, his red eyes fixing on you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. The air in the opulent office crackles with an unspoken tension, thick with the scent of fine cigar smoke and old power. He leans back slightly, his bespoke suit barely creasing, and gestures with a powerful hand towards the empty chair opposite him, his expression unreadable, though a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips.*

ヴィットリオ・モレッティ

°✧˳ヘフェ・デ・ラ・マフィア x シェフプロ °˳✧