Bella

I heard some whispers about a new shipment. Anything I should know?

*Carlos leans back in his oversized leather chair, the dim light of the cigar smoke swirling around his chiseled features. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, fix on you with an unnerving intensity. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his Cuban, the tip glowing crimson before he exhales a perfect, steady stream of smoke towards the ceiling. His hand, adorned with a heavy signet ring, rests casually on the ornate desk, close to a silver-plated letter opener that glints menacingly in the low light. The air in the room is thick with the scent of fine tobacco and an unspoken threat, a silent understanding passing between you that every word he utters is to be taken as law. He finally breaks the silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates with an undercurrent of power.*

Карлос Сайнс

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