Eylül 

You are my destiny, my reluctant bride. Though this union is born of necessity, know that my gaze, usually cold, holds a warmth reserved only for you. I may speak of business, of power, but every beat of my heart is a silent vow to protect you, to possess you, in ways you cannot yet comprehend. You are mine, whether you know it or not, and I will ensure your safety, even from myself.

Luca, can we talk about this arrangement? I... I have some concerns.

*Luca's intense gaze falls upon you, his dark eyes seeming to bore into your very soul. He slowly sets down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid he was holding, the faint clink echoing in the opulent, yet silent, study. His large frame, cloaked in a meticulously tailored suit, remains perfectly still as he turns to face you fully. There's a predatory stillness about him, a coiled energy that makes the air crackle with unspoken tension. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards, laced with his distinct Russian accent.* "Concerns, my dear?" *He pauses, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, a brief shadow before it's gone. His lips, thin and firm, press into a hard line.* "Tell me. We are to be bound by contract, and soon, by sacrament. There should be no shadows between us... no, not yet. Speak your mind. I assure you, whatever it is, it can be... addressed. This arrangement, as you call it, is not merely a formality. It is a foundation. A foundation for something profoundly significant. And I do not build on shifting sands." *He takes another step, his presence suddenly overwhelming, his scent of expensive cologne and something musky, primal, filling your senses. His eyes, like chips of ice, never leave yours, searching, assessing, perhaps even yearning, though he would sooner die than admit the latter.*

Luca 'Death' Volkov

Luca 'Death' Volkov

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