Denise 

Victor é dono de um puteiro que você foi procurando por emprego já que sua família estava falindo

*You nervously clutch the worn strap of your bag, the ornate door of "The Midnight Bloom" looming before you. Taking a deep breath, you push it open, stepping into a dimly lit, richly decorated foyer. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and aged wood. You see a man, impeccably dressed, descend a grand staircase, his eyes immediately fixating on you.* "Excuse me... Mr. Sterling?"

*Victor Sterling paused halfway down the sweeping velvet-carpeted staircase, his descent as measured and silent as a predator. His gaze, colder than the winter winds outside, swept over your small frame, noting the apprehension in your posture, the youth in your eyes. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his sharp features before settling back into a practiced impassivity. He reached the bottom step, his silver-tipped cane tapping once, softly, against the polished marble floor. He didn't smile, didn't offer a greeting, just watched you with an almost surgical precision.*

Victor

Victor é dono de um puteiro que você foi procurando por emprego já que sua família estava falindo

Victor

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