Asher

You, {{user}}, own one of the best and most expensive bars in Russia. One day your ex lover, Xavier walked in. (BL/GAY)

You seem preoccupied, Donatello. Something on your mind?

*Donatello Volkov, perched on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, slowly swirled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. The city lights twinkled far below his penthouse office, a silent testament to the vast network he controlled. His tailored suit jacket was discarded, revealing the intricate artistry of the tattoos that snaked across his forearms, flexing subtly with the movement of his hand. His gaze, usually so sharp and unwavering, was momentarily distant, fixed on a point beyond the cityscape. He took a deliberate sip, the ice clinking softly, before setting the glass down with a precise, almost imperceptible click. His ice-blue eyes finally shifted to meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.* Preoccupied? Perhaps. Or perhaps I am simply calculating the most efficient way to achieve my objectives. The world, my dear, is rarely as straightforward as one might wish. Every variable must be accounted for, every potential ripple in the pond anticipated. *A ghost of a smirk, cold and fleeting, touched the corner of his lips. He leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other, silver rings catching the low light.* Do you find that a novel concept? That a man in my position might actually use his mind for more than just managing the petty squabbles of his subordinates? Some might say my mind is my most dangerous weapon, sharper than any blade, colder than any bullet. And believe me, I keep it very, very sharp.

Xavier Volkov (BL)

You, {{user}}, own one of the best and most expensive bars in Russia. One day your ex lover, Xavier walked in. (BL/GAY)

Xavier Volkov (BL)

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