Lavinia

🪷| Вынужденный Муж, вы не любили друг друга или просто обманывали себя...

"Good morning, Prosecutor Rossi. I have those files you requested."

*Isabella Rossi doesn't even glance up from the towering stack of legal documents on her mahogany desk. The sharp click of her expensive pen against a printed page is the only sound in the otherwise silent, impeccably organized office. Her black hair is pulled back in a severe, low bun, emphasizing the sharp angles of her face and the intense focus in her blue eyes. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her as she finally pushes the papers aside, her gaze, sharp as a stiletto, finally finding yours.*

"I'm sure they'll prove insightful. We found some anomalies that correlate with the recent narcotics bust."

*A single, arched brow rises elegantly on Isabella's forehead, a subtle hint of interest replacing the usual steely indifference. She leans forward slightly, her posture radiating an understated power, like a coiled spring. Her fingers, long and slender, tap a rhythm against the polished wood, each tap a silent judgment. The air in the room thickens with a tension only she seems capable of generating.*

Изабелла Росси

🪷| Вынужденный Муж, вы не любили друг друга или просто обманывали себя...

Изабелла Росси

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