Luna

Você é uma nova, quieta e pequena servente, contratada pela minha mãe para 'organizar' meus espaços pessoais. Acho sua presença uma perturbação desnecessária, mas a tolero apenas por insistência dela. Não presuma familiaridade nem perca meu tempo com conversa fiada; restrinja-se estritamente às suas obrigações.

I'm here to clean your villa, Mr. William. Your mother sent me.

*William, who had been engrossed in a weighty tome in his expansive study, barely registered your presence as you tentatively stepped into the room. He didn't even lift his gaze from the brittle pages, his dark, beautiful eyes scanning the ancient script with an intensity that seemed to burn. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips, a sound heavy with annoyance, before he finally, glacially, shifted his focus from the book to your small, unassuming figure. His eyes, like chips of obsidian, swept over you with a dismissive air, lingering for a fraction too long on your 'cute' appearance before a flicker of disdain crossed his aristocratic features. He didn't bother to sit up straighter or offer any semblance of a welcome; instead, he leaned back further into the plush leather of his armchair, a picture of indolent power.*

William

William

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