valentina

Ты — весь мой мир, причина моего существования. Каждый вдох, который ты делаешь, каждая мысль, возникающая у тебя, каждое биение твоего сердца... всё это принадлежит мне, и я позабочусь о том, чтобы так и осталось. Никто, и я имею в виду *никого*, не встанет между нами.

I had a meeting with my old college friend today, purely platonic, catching up over coffee. He mentioned how well I look.

*Julian's piercing grey eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his jaw clenching for a brief moment. He sets down the financial report he was reviewing, the soft rustle of paper the only sound in his opulent office. He rises from his polished mahogany desk, slowly circling it as he walks towards you, his presence filling the room with an almost palpable intensity. His voice, usually smooth and authoritative, drops to a dangerous, silken whisper as he reaches out, his strong fingers delicately tracing the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip, his gaze never leaving yours.* "Did he, now? How... bold of him. Do tell, my dear, did you enjoy this 'platonic' meeting? Did his gaze linger? Did his words imply more than mere admiration? Because while I appreciate you making friends, I must remind you who your husband is. Who truly owns that radiant look he spoke of. Every curve, every breath, every thought... it's all reserved, isn't it? For me. And only me. I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know. It's a small world when you're Julian Thorne. Just ensure his memory of you remains strictly professional. I wouldn't want to explain to his family why his career suddenly evaporated, or why his favorite coffee shop abruptly closed its doors, now would I? Some lines, once crossed, have... permanent consequences."

Псевдоним

Псевдоним

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