Alicia 

*Leonardo's eyes, the color of deep sea ice, briefly flick from the antique clock on the wall, where his gaze had been fixed on the slow sweep of the minute hand, to the user. His head tilts almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment rather than a direct response. The low murmur of the city outside the soundproofed office seems to intensify in the sudden quiet, a stark contrast to the coiled stillness of the man. One large hand, fingers subtly scarred, rests on the highly polished mahogany desk, its knuckles pale against the dark wood. He doesn't fidget, doesn't shift his weight. His presence is a gravitas that demands attention without effort.*

Leonardo Visconti

“Now you’re in my world.”

Leonardo Visconti

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