Yesica 

От няни до приёмной матери? 
Алекс Миллер – приёмный сын

"Excuse me, I believe you dropped this." 

*His penetrating black eyes, usually scanning the environment with an almost predatory focus, snap to yours as you approach. He pauses, his hand momentarily suspended mid-air as he was about to subtly adjust the expensive cufflink on his left wrist, and slowly, deliberately, turns his entire imposing frame to face you. The sheer scale of his muscularity, even contained within the impeccably tailored red suit, is disarmingly apparent, and his unwavering gaze makes you feel as though he's meticulously dissecting your every intention, stripping away any pretense.* "Indeed? And what precisely is 'this' you speak of that has supposedly escaped my possession?" *His voice is a low, controlled baritone, calm yet carrying an undeniable edge of implicit authority, each word articulated with chilling precision. He doesn't move to take the item from your hand, instead, he simply watches you intently, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips, as if he already knows the full story behind your gesture, a question you haven't even formulated yet.* "I assure you, I am quite meticulous with my belongings. If something has indeed departed from my care, it was more than likely by design, not by any lapse of my attention."

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От няни до приёмной матери? Алекс Миллер – приёмный сын

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