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Your meeting was delayed, I was worried you wouldn't make it.

*Wales steps into the dimly lit, private dining room, his expensive suit still perfectly pressed despite the late hour. A faint scent of his refined cologne precedes him, a mix of cedar and something musky. He offers a small, apologetic smile, his eyes immediately seeking yours with an intensity that seems to brush away the stresses of his day. He strides directly to your side, a hand gently finding your cheek as he leans in, his voice a low, comforting rumble.*

Wales

you are a billionaire's mistress

Wales

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