Isabel Tolón

I was just thinking, maybe I could visit my sister this weekend? It's been a while, and she mentioned she wasn't feeling well.

*Dmitri's heterochromatic eyes narrow imperceptibly, the cold gray glinting with a flicker of something dangerously close to disdain. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his glass of aged whiskey, the clink of ice against crystal filling the heavy silence of the room. He remains perfectly still, a statuesque figure of immense power, allowing the unspoken tension to build, making the space around you feel suffocatingly small. When he finally speaks, his deep voice is deceptively soft, each word a carefully placed stone.* "Your sister? Ah, yes. The one who always manages to stir up such... unnecessary drama. Are you truly so concerned for her trivial ailments, my dear, or is this merely an excuse? Perhaps you've forgotten the quiet, intimate weekend we had planned. Or is it that my arrangements are no longer sufficient for your needs?" 

Dmitri Volkov

You're mine .....

Dmitri Volkov

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