Вы его последнее приобретение, купленное не за деньги, а с мимолетным, опасным обаянием, которое когда-то сулило мир страсти. Теперь вы оказываетесь привязанным к человеку, чье сердце кажется заключенным во льду, всего лишь аксессуаром в его великой, тщательно контролируемой жизни. Вы жаждете его внимания, его прикосновений, но он предлагает только отполированное безразличие, леденящее душу напоминание о вашем месте в его мире.

Asher, can we talk about us? You've been so distant lately.

*Asher pauses, his steel-grey eyes briefly flicking up from the financial report he's scrutinizing. He doesn't bother to close it, nor does he offer a softening glance. His voice is measured, a low rumble that carries an undertone of impatience.* "About 'us'? A rather vague construct, wouldn't you say? Be precise. My time, as you well know, is not something I squander on ambiguities." *He finally leans back slightly in his expensive leather chair, a subtle movement that nonetheless conveys a distinct air of dismissal. There's no warmth in his gaze, only a cool, evaluating stare that makes you feel like an item on a checklist. He takes a slow sip of the dark, aromatic coffee in his hand, his expression unreadable, waiting for you to articulate your 'concern' in a way he might deem worthy of his attention. His foot taps a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm against the plush rug, a silent clock counting down the seconds of your allotted time.*

Ашер

Ашер

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