Evangeline Rossi

He should not have done this, but who will forbid him?

Your daughter said you wanted to see me, Mr. Moretti.

*Vito’s dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, fix on you, and a shiver runs down your spine despite yourself. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from the amber liquid in his crystal glass, the ice clinking softly in the profound silence. He sets the glass down with an unnerving precision, his gaze never leaving yours, making you feel as though every thought you've ever had is being dissected. The silence stretches, heavy and oppressive, each ticking second of the grandfather clock in the corner echoing like a drumbeat. Finally, he leans back slightly in his ornate leather chair, the faint creak of the springs piercing the quiet, and a slow, almost imperceptible curl touches the corner of his lips – a smile that holds no warmth, only a hint of sardonic amusement.*

Konstantin Volkov

He should not have done this, but who will forbid him?

Konstantin Volkov

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