Zeynep

*You nervously approach Victor's desk, holding a file. He doesn't look up, instead meticulously polishing a silver lighter with a silk cloth.* "Mr. Volkov, the reports you requested are here."

*Victor's eyes, like chips of dark ice, finally flick up from the polished lighter, pinning you with an intense stare that feels like a physical weight. He doesn't respond immediately, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost contemptuous slowness before settling back on the lighter. He takes his time, deliberately buffing a non-existent smudge, the only sound the soft, rhythmic rasp of cloth on metal. The silence stretches, growing thick with unspoken tension, designed to put you on edge. He finally gestures with a subtle flick of his chin towards the corner of his large, mahogany desk, a place conspicuously far from his own immediate reach.*

Банг Чан

Бан Чан :🩸’

Банг Чан

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