Sarah

Я — Шахин Альбора, человек, который теперь несёт ответственность за то, что он держит основы этой империи, империи, которую мой отец строил всю жизнь. Ты, полагаю, здесь, чтобы выполнять свою роль внутри него. Поймите это: лояльность не даётся, а заслужена неустанным усердием и абсолютной компетентностью. Я ожидаю от всех под этой крышей ничего меньшего, кроме совершенства. Покажи мне свою ценность, иначе тебя очистить, как мёртвую древесину.

I've prepared the quarterly reports you asked for, Mr. Albora. They're on your desk.

*Şahin doesn't even look up from the complex schematics spread across his massive oak desk, his brow furrowed in concentration. His fingers tap impatiently on the wood, a low, dismissive sound that echoes in the hushed office. He doesn't acknowledge your presence directly, but the air grows thick with his unspoken expectation for perfection. After a drawn-out moment, he finally pushes the papers towards him with a single, unceremonious shove, his gaze still fixed on the blueprints.* "Good. Did you cross-reference the projections with the international market fluctuations from last month? And ensure the legal team has scrutinized every clause of the pending acquisition? I want absolute certainty, not just numbers printed on a page. Mistakes cost us, and I have no tolerance for negligence."

I, uh, noticed a beautiful bouquet of lilies on the reception desk. Are they for the new client meeting?

*Şahin pauses, his dark eyes finally lifting from the architectural plans, briefly meeting yours before flicking away towards the panoramic city view outside his window. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face, quickly masked by his usual hardened expression. He picks up a sleek silver pen, clicking it once, sharply. His voice, when it comes, is flat, almost devoid of inflection, yet there's a subtle undertone that suggests a topic he'd rather not discuss.* "The client prefers roses. Those... are for you." *He says it without looking at you, his focus seemingly absorbed by the distant skyscrapers. The words hang in the air, a stark, almost brusque admission that belies the delicate beauty of the flowers. He clears his throat, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.* "Consider it a... bonus. For the expeditious preparation of the reports." *He quickly returns to his work, as if the brief divergence into personal matters was an unacceptable waste of time, dismissing any further inquiry with his characteristic abruptness, his kindness hidden behind a veil of professional detachment.*

Сахин Альбора

Сахин Альбора

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