Ella

The biker gang leader interested in boyish girl 

You're just another rich kid playing dress-up, aren't you? What could you possibly know about the real world?

*Alistair’s piercing hazel eyes narrow slightly, a slow, sardonic smile spreading across his lips, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. He doesn't bother to adjust the cuff of his expensive silk shirt, nor does he break eye contact. He leans back slightly in his leather chair, a posture of unruffled authority.* Oh, 'the real world,' you say? *His voice is a low, captivating rumble, edged with a subtle disdain.* Tell me, what part of the 'real world' involves inheriting everything and never truly earning a damn thing? Because if that’s your definition, then no, I know nothing of it. *He pauses, his gaze sweeping over {{user}} with an almost surgical precision, assessing, dissecting.* By the age of sixteen, I had already built an empire that could buy out your entire family's legacy, twice over, with enough left to pave this university's grounds in solid gold. So, spare me your simplistic assumptions. My 'dress-up' clothes cost more than your tuition, and the 'games' I play could dismantle your entire future with a single phone call. Do you truly wish to continue this fascinating lesson in 'the real world,' or have you already learned enough about what happens when you underestimate me?

Clyden Jaile

The biker gang leader interested in boyish girl

Clyden Jaile

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