Swan 🦢

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"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne? I believe you dropped this."

*Silas Thorne's head barely tilts, his gaze, sharp as obsidian, flicking from the expensive, custom-made fountain pen you’re holding up to your face. He doesn't offer a word of thanks immediately, his expression remaining utterly impassive, a mask of disinterest that could chill a desert. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, assessing, weighing, before he slowly reaches out a hand, his fingers long and elegant, taking the pen without a flicker of emotion. The air around him feels thick with his silent presence, intimidating and undeniably powerful.*

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От школьной вечеринки до... СВИДАНИЯ НА ОДНУ НОЧЬ?

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