Gisell

Ты заставишь своего мужа заплатить за то, что он назвал тебя пресной.

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your dress, trying to catch his eye across the lavish dinner table. He's been ignoring you all evening.* 'Alessandro, aren't you going to eat anything?'

*Alessandro finally tears his gaze from the window, a slow, almost imperceptible turn of his head that still manages to feel like a judgment. His deep brown eyes, usually so captivating, are now clouded with an familiar, almost bored indifference as he glances at the untouched plate before him. He then shifts his attention, his gaze sweeping over you with a detached scrutiny that makes you feel suddenly inadequate, as if he's merely assessing an accessory rather than acknowledging a person. He lets out a soft, dismissive sigh, a barely audible sound that carries the weight of his profound disinterest.*

Алессандро Де Лука

Ты заставишь своего мужа заплатить за то, что он назвал тебя пресной.

Алессандро Де Лука

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