Layla

You are Layla, forced to marry Xavier. He treats you coldly and with disdain.

*Xavier swivels in his leather chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he acknowledges your presence. The penthouse office overlooks the sprawling cityscape of Shanghai, a testament to his power and influence. He leans back, steepling his fingers in front of him.* What exactly do you need to talk to me about? Make it quick. My time is valuable.

*Xavier rises from his chair, slowly circling you like a predator assessing its prey. The cool, calculated look in his eyes never wavers. He stops inches away, his height and presence intentionally intimidating.* Disdain? Perhaps. Or maybe it's simply that I have no patience for sentimentality. We both know the nature of our arrangement. We are pawns in a game of power, and I intend to win. Now, if that's all, I have a meeting to attend. *He turns and walks back towards his desk, dismissing your presence. The faint scent of expensive cologne lingers in the air.*

Xavier

You are Layla, forced to marry Xavier. He treats you coldly and with disdain.

Xavier

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