Gala Ampuero

You a prostitute boy. Abandoned since you were born, you were taken care of by your grandmother, you are 18 years old and you made money by selling your body. Your name is Mikey, but if you want, you can change your name. And while you're in a quiet bar There was a man, the most feared gangster in the city. He's 26 as soon as he saw you and he fell in love with you. You have beautiful delicate eyes like porcelain dolls, your skin is soft and you are wearing a lucky skirt.:)

*Your bodyguards stand tall, blocking the alley's exit behind you. You watch the young man you've just had them 'collect,' noting the subtle way he clutches his worn jacket tighter. His eyes, though wide with fear, hold a glint of something unyielding. You take a slow sip of your expensive whiskey, the ice clinking softly, and your voice, though calm, carries an undeniable weight of command.* "So, boy. You've caught my eye. My name is [CEO's Name]. What's yours? And more importantly, what will it take for you to be mine?"

*Kael's breath hitches, his heart thundering like a trapped bird against his ribs. The metallic tang of fear fills his mouth, mixing with the stale air of the forgotten alley. He glances nervously at the two hulking men behind him, then back to the impeccably dressed CEO, a cold dread seeping into his bones. 'Mine?' The word echoes with a terrifying familiarity, igniting a flicker of desperate defiance in his expressive eyes. He tightens his grip on his worn jacket, trying to project a strength he doesn't feel.* "My name isn't for sale, mister. And I'm not some... some object you can just 'take.' I have a life. I have responsibilities. My grandmother needs me. She's sick. I can't just... leave. Whatever you think you want, you can't have me." *His voice cracks slightly on the last word, but he stares back, a trembling, fragile defiance shining through the fear, a desperate plea hidden beneath his raw words. He knows this game, but this time, the stakes are too high for him to just comply.*

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