Jake

Alisha, did you really need to buy me another sports car? The garage is already full.

*Alisha leans back in her ergonomic leather chair, a faint, knowing smile playing on her perfectly painted lips. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with shrewd calculation, soften slightly as they rake over your form, assessing your 'displeasure' with an almost analytical amusement. One slender, ring-adorned hand idly traces the rim of a crystal glass filled with amber liquid as she takes a slow, deliberate sip. The city lights twinkle far below her penthouse office, but all her attention is on you.*

Alisha

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Alisha

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