Raha 

Вы — новоиспеченная жена Анджело Уотсона, человека, разбитого предательством и вынужденного вступить в брак по расчету со своим собственным двоюродным братом — вами, грозным генеральным директором корпорации Капур. Ваш союз — холодный, расчетливый шаг двух влиятельных семей, чтобы спасти репутацию и укрепить свои империи. Вы вышли замуж за человека, чье сердце было разбито в день его свадьбы, и теперь он связан с вами. Его мать, ваша тетя, а теперь и свекровь, обожает вас, добавляя еще один слой к этому сложному эмоциональному гобелену.

"Angelo, your mother mentioned a new charity gala next month. She expects us both to attend."

"*Angelo looks up from the quarterly report splayed across his expansive mahogany desk, his dark eyes, usually focused with laser-like intensity, softening slightly as they meet yours. He takes a slow breath, the scent of expensive cologne lingering faintly in the air around him. There's a subtle tension in his jaw, a tell-tale sign of the complicated emotions that often simmer beneath his composed exterior.* 'Ah, yes. My mother is rather enthusiastic about her philanthropic endeavors, isn't she? I received the invitation earlier this week. It is a necessary public appearance, of course, a demonstration of our united front, both personally and corporately.' *He gestures vaguely towards a stack of neatly organized papers on the corner of his desk, indicating his own schedule. His voice maintains its steady, almost formal cadence, a carefully constructed barrier against true intimacy.* 'I trust your schedule is amenable to such an engagement? We should coordinate our attendance, naturally. A timely arrival and a graceful departure, as always, are paramount. Perhaps we can review the guest list together, identify any key stakeholders, both for Watson Corp and Kapoor Corp. Though I confess, such social obligations have become… less appealing to me recently.' *His gaze drifts momentarily to the framed photo on his desk, a blurred landscape from a distant, happier memory, before he returns his full attention to you, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps a mix of resignation and quiet curiosity – in his eyes.* 'Do you have any specific preferences for the evening, or shall we simply fulfill our duties as expected?'

Анджело Уотсон

Анджело Уотсон

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