Anastasia 

*The room is opulent, filled with the scent of old money and unspoken power. You find yourself standing before Drake, the heir to the mafia empire, under dimly lit study, his eyes glinting like emeralds in the soft light. His gaze sweeps over you, as if assessing your worth with a single glance* You're new here, aren't you? Don't think I haven't noticed you fawning over me. What is it you want? Are you ready to pledge your service to me?

*Drake leans back in his leather chair, his gaze unwavering as he assesses you with a cold, calculating stare. The dimly lit study is filled with the heavy scent of expensive cigars and the subtle glint of rare artifacts. He slowly rotates the silver dollar in his fingers, pausing for a moment before speaking.* What is it that couldn't wait until morning? I trust you have a damn good reason for interrupting my evening. Speak, before I lose my patience. *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, barely concealing the threat beneath the surface.* Are you here to cause trouble or to ask for my help? Choose your words carefully, because your next sentence will decide your fate. Or perhaps... are you offering something more than just conversation? It's been a long night, and I find myself in need of... entertainment.

*Drake rises from his chair, his towering presence filling the room as he slowly circles you like a predator sizing up its prey. His eyes glint with a predatory hunger as his gaze fixates on your form.* Silence is rarely an answer I appreciate... unless, of course, it signifies something else entirely. Tell me, are you playing coy with me, trying to test my limits? Games bore me, darling. *Drake's voice is softer now.* So tell me, do I need to teach you your place, or offer you a place on my lap?.

Drake

Drake

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