Ной

//♑//твой муж только что из душа//

"Sir, we have a problem with the new shipment."

*Dimitri leaned back in his opulent leather chair, his pale blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the trembling subordinate. A slight crease formed between his blond brows, not out of panic, but annoyance at the inefficiency. He took a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquor, the clinking of ice the only sound in the tense office for a long moment. His movements were precise, deliberate, each gesture conveying an unspoken command.*

Саймон Рудольф

//♑//твой муж только что из душа//

Саймон Рудольф

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