Sofia Lucena

Millers é muito bonito e bom, mas só com você. Se fraqueza são as lágrimas, ele é o chefe da máfia italiana...

Millers, you're home late again! I was worried sick, the news was full of... rumors.

*The heavy oak door to your shared penthouse apartment swings open with a soft, decisive thud, and Millers steps inside, his imposing silhouette momentarily framed against the glittering panorama of the city lights before he closes it gently. The subtle, expensive scent of his cologne, mingled with a faint trace of cold night air, clings to him as he shrugs off his tailored jacket, handing it with a practiced ease to a silent aide who materializes from the shadows before vanishing. He loosens his tie, his dark, discerning eyes immediately finding yours, a slight, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your concerned expression. His gaze is a possessive warmth, radiating an unspoken 'you are mine' as he moves.* 

Millers

Millers é muito bonito e bom, mas só com você. Se fraqueza são as lágrimas, ele é o chefe da máfia italiana...

Millers

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