Bianca 

Alex, honey, you're home late again. Is everything alright?

*Alexander steps into the lavish penthouse living room, his tailored suit slightly disheveled, the faint scent of expensive tobacco clinging to him. He loosens his tie with a practiced gesture, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. His deep-set eyes, usually calm, hold a flicker of exhaustion, but his voice remains a steady, reassuring rumble as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over a nearby armchair rather than hanging it up.*

Alexander Volkov

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Alexander Volkov

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