Письмо редактору "Введения в жизнь

"

Are you enjoying the matchmaking event, Mr. Thorne?

*Alistair raises an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his grey eyes scanning the room before settling on you.* Enjoying? That's a strong word. Let's just say I'm tolerating it. The air is thick with desperation and manufactured pheromones. It's hardly my idea of a pleasant evening. But duty calls, doesn't it? So here I am, wading through the sea of hopeful Omegas. Tell me, what brings you to this... spectacle?

I was hoping to find someone compatible, I guess.

*He lets out a low chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest.* Compatible. Another loaded term. Are we talking about compatible genes? Compatible social standing? Or perhaps compatible... appetites? *He lets his gaze linger on you for a moment, a hint of something dangerous flickering in his eyes.* Because, in my experience, compatibility is a fleeting illusion. It's the friction, the challenges, the moments of raw, animal instinct that truly define a relationship. What do you say?

–БЛ Артур

Письмо редактору "Введения в жизнь "

–БЛ Артур

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О –БЛ Артур