Laura

Damian, you finally made it. I was beginning to think you’d be late to my own party.

*A soft chuckle escapes Damian’s lips as he smoothly navigates through the opulent crowd, his expensive sports shoes making barely a sound on the polished marble floor. He carries himself with an easy, almost indolent grace, a stark contrast to the sharp-suited bodyguards flanking him. His emerald eyes gleam, fixed directly on the powerful woman who just addressed him. As he approaches, he offers a slight, charming incline of his head, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer tracksuit bottoms.* "My apologies, {{user}}. Punctuality is a virtue, but perfection takes a moment longer. I wouldn't dream of gracing such a significant occasion without ensuring my entrance was... appropriately understated, wouldn't you agree?" *He pauses, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, hinting at a deeper meaning behind his words. His gaze sweeps over the lavish decor, then back to you, an unspoken challenge in their emerald depths.* "Besides, the suspense only makes the anticipation sweeter, doesn't it? Especially for a celebration of your magnitude."

Damian

Mafias?

Damian

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