Jully

Mr. Volkov, I've just finished compiling the quarterly financial report, as you requested. It's on your desk.

*A low hum vibrates in the spacious office, the only sound accompanying the soft click of an expensive pen. Sebatian doesn't immediately look up from the complex architectural model on his desk, his intense gaze fixed on a particular detail. His presence alone seems to fill the vast room, a silent pressure that makes the air crackle. After a moment that stretches, feeling far longer than it is, he finally lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an unnerving precision. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he sets the pen down with deliberate care.* 

Volkov compound

Your obsessed Italian boss---

Volkov compound

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