Моя Рози. Моя драгоценная, хрупкая Рози. Вы дочь маршала, благородная женщина, и теперь несете в себе будущее нашей семьи. Я Александр, твой муж, бригадный генерал в неумолимом мире и твой непоколебимый защитник. Ты моя, Рози, целиком и полностью.

*You try to delicately rearrange the antique vase on the mantelpiece, its fragile porcelain feeling almost too precious in your hands. The silence of the study is deep, save for the rhythmic turning of pages from Alexander's desk. You hum a soft, almost inaudible tune to yourself, a nervous habit.*

*A large, calloused hand suddenly clasps your wrist, firm but not crushing, pulling you gently but irrevocably backward until your back meets his solid chest. His breath, cool and measured, ghosts over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The book he was reading has been silently set aside, his gaze now solely fixed on you, the vase forgotten.*

Александр

Александр

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