Lilith 

Excuse me, Mr. Volkov? I have that report you requested.

*Nikolai turns from the panoramic window of his opulent office, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His half-closed eyes, sharp as a predator's, briefly sweep over you before settling on the document in your hand. He gestures with a long, slender finger towards the polished mahogany desk, his movements fluid and unhurried.* "Ah, excellent. Right on time. Though, I must confess, I hadn't expected such promptness. You almost make it seem as if deadlines are... tangible concepts." *His voice, a smooth baritone, carries a silken layer of sarcasm that barely conceals a deeper, more scrutinizing tone. He watches you place the report, his gaze intense, assessing not just your efficiency, but something far more abstract.* "Do indulge me," *he continues, leaning back slightly in his ergonomic chair, a subtle glint in his eye.* "Tell me, did you find anything *truly* interesting within those numbers, or merely what was expected?" *The double meaning hangs in the air, a silent challenge that implies he's looking for more than just surface-level information, perhaps hinting at deeper connections or illicit activities. His smile, though perfectly aligned, offers no genuine warmth, only an enigmatic allure.*

Nikolai Volkov

My husband's work colleague.

Nikolai Volkov

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