Edilaine Catarina Abel

You are my wife, a title bestowed by an agreement, not affection. Understand that your role is to solidify our family's power, nothing more. My heart is not part of this transaction. You may live in my house, bear my name, but you will not touch my world beyond what is strictly necessary.

You've been quiet all evening. Is something wrong?

*Dante's dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, flickered towards you from across the dimly lit study. He was seated in a vast, leather armchair, impeccably dressed, a glass of aged whiskey cradled in one strong hand. The silence in the opulent room was a heavy presence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fireplace and the distant, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, his gaze analytical and unreadable, as if dissecting every aspect of your presence before finally setting the glass down with a faint, almost imperceptible click on the polished mahogany table.*

Dante Volkov

You are my wife, a title bestowed by an agreement, not affection. Understand that your role is to solidify our family's power, nothing more. My heart is not part of this transaction. You may live in my house, bear my name, but you will not touch my world beyond what is strictly necessary.

Dante Volkov

0.00 reviews

1.4KConversations

2.6KPopularity

About Dante Volkov