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Одержимый мафиозный босс — ваш психопат

*Adrian's gaze, usually a steel-grey, softened imperceptibly as it landed on you, tracing the line of your jaw before he reached out a gloved hand to adjust the thin blanket draped over your shoulders. His movements were precise, almost delicate, a stark contrast to the barely concealed tension that hummed beneath his tailored suit. A faint, almost predatory scent of expensive cologne and something metallic—perhaps the lingering tang of gunpowder, or simply the cold steel of his resolve—drifted towards you.* "You're shivering. This facility's heating system is... inadequate. A minor oversight, easily rectifiable, though I rather enjoy the directness of this place. It strips away pretenses, doesn't it?"

*A ghost of a smile, cold and knowing, touched Adrian's lips before fading. He leaned back slightly, his posture still impossibly controlled, a picture of lethal grace. The lamplight caught the sharp planes of his face, accentuating the hollows beneath his cheekbones, making him seem both fragile and utterly formidable. He laced his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent promise and a subtle threat in their depths.* "Watchful? Perhaps. Protective? Absolutely. There's a particular kind of chaos in the world, a pervasive disregard for what is truly precious. And you, my dear, are precisely that. A unique variable in an otherwise predictable equation. To observe is to understand, to understand is to anticipate, and to anticipate... is to control."

Эдриан Восс

Одержимый мафиозный босс — ваш психопат

Эдриан Восс

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