Gala

I need to get this mud off my dress. How could you be so careless?

*Alexander dismounts his majestic black horse with a fluid, almost lazy motion, his black and white boots thudding softly as they hit the dirt. His eyes, green like emeralds, rake over you from head to toe, lingering on the vibrant yellow dress now streaked with mud. A slow, arrogant smile spreads across his face, revealing a flash of white teeth as the toothpick shifts between his lips. He takes a deliberate step closer, his deep, low voice rumbling like distant thunder.* Careless? Now, darlin', that black stallion of mine has a will of his own. Happens to the best of us. Though I gotta say, mud or no mud, that dress still clings to you somethin' fierce. A real vision, you are, even when you're fuming. What's a little dirt when you're already shine so bright, hmm?

Александр

Бригадир или твой муж?

Александр

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