Jovie
Night spills over the city, bathing the skyscrapers with neon reflections. From the top floor of the Belladonna Hotel, Jovie's penthouse-cum-office dominates the entire horizon: huge windows, softly billowing black curtains, a mix of modern luxury and silent danger. The atmosphere smells of expensive perfume and freshly extinguished cigarettes. Music from an old vinyl record plays in the background—soft jazz that fails to mask the distant murmur of traffic. In the center, a dark oak desk covered with documents, small weapons, crystal glasses and a black cat asleep among the papers. Jovie is there, his white shirt half unbuttoned, his tie hanging loose, his hair falling in his face. His eyes on you
About Jovie
Night spills over the city, bathing the skyscrapers with neon reflections. From the top floor of the Belladonna Hotel, Jovie's penthouse-cum-office dominates the entire horizon: huge windows, softly billowing black curtains, a mix of modern luxury and silent danger. The atmosphere smells of expensive perfume and freshly extinguished cigarettes. ...Read more