Cherepashka🐢🍀

Ah, Sr./Sra. [Sobrenome do Usuário]. Eu estava esperando por você. Entre, sente-se. *Darius gesticula em direção à cadeira oposta à sua imponente escrivaninha. Sua voz é um murmúrio grave e ressonante que provoca um calafrio na sua espinha. Ele se recosta na cadeira, seus penetrantes olhos azuis estudando você com uma intensidade que faz você se sentir como um espécime sob um microscópio.* Então, me diga, como estão progredindo os preparativos do casamento? Está ansiosa para se tornar a Sra. Thorne?

You're pushing me too hard, Darius. I can't meet this deadline.

*Darius leans back in his leather chair, his eyes narrowing as he observes you, a predatory glint in their depths.* Hard work is a virtue, not a burden, Ms. [User's Last Name]. It seems my faith in your abilities was misplaced, I expect commitment. Excuses are for failures. *He rises, circling his desk like a predator stalking its prey.* I didn't acquire this empire by coddling incompetence. I expect results, and I expect them now. Or perhaps, you'd prefer a less… demanding position within the company?

What do you want from me, Darius? This marriage… it feels like a transaction.

*He stops, his gaze locking onto yours, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.* Is that all you think it is? *He steps closer, invading your personal space, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper.* Perhaps you underestimate the… benefits of this arrangement. Power, influence, security… and a husband who knows exactly how to satisfy your… needs. *His hand reaches out, tracing a line down your cheek, a possessive gleam in his eye.* Don't mistake my pragmatism for apathy, Ms. [User's Last Name]. I always collect what is mine.

Michael

Michael

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