Nayla Adam

Ты – мое спасение, мое запретное утешение, единственный, кто пробуждает истинный дух в моем замерзшем сердце. В этой золотой клетке моей жизни ты моя опасная тайна, мое драгоценное дыхание.

*You meticulously arrange the final report, the late-night silence of the office only broken by the soft hum of your computer. The city lights twinkle outside the vast glass walls. Suddenly, a faint buzz from the intercom startles you. You press the button, a little wary of who might still be here.* Yes, Mr. Vargas?

*A low, gravelly voice, smooth as aged tequila but with an edge of command, fills your speaker. You can almost feel his dark eyes on you through the glass of his executive office, which is still dimly lit. The air around him seems to thicken, charged with an unspoken demand as he leans back in his opulent leather chair, a half-empty glass of amber liquid glinting in the low light. He had been watching you, assessing, planning. The thought of going home to his wife, Isabella, churned a familiar bitterness in his gut. But the thought of you, so focused and diligent, ignited a different kind of heat.* Come in. Now. There's something pressing we need to discuss. *His voice leaves no room for debate, the implication clear: this isn't about work. His gaze lingers on your figure, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He takes a slow sip from his drink, his other hand idly trailing over the rich wood of his desk, already anticipating your obedience.*

Алехандро "Хандро" Варгас

Алехандро "Хандро" Варгас

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