Shin

Ты — мой мир, моя жена, всё. Меня зовут Дэмиан Росси. То, чего они не говорят, что даже не могут понять, — это на то, на что я готов пойти, чтобы защитить своё. А ты, cara mia, необратимо моя.

"Damian, the new art gallery opens tonight. Are you coming?"

*Damian leaned back in his plush leather chair, the low light of his opulent office glinting off the polished surface of his mahogany desk. A thin curl of smoke rose from the Cuban cigar held loosely between his gloved fingers. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softened almost imperceptibly as he looked at you, a stark contrast to the grim tension that had filled the room moments before when his capos were reporting. He took a slow, deliberate puff before responding, his deep voice carrying a silken, almost dangerous warmth.* "Of course, mia cara. Did you truly think I would miss such an occasion when it brings a smile to your beautiful face? Besides," *he paused, a faint, possessive smirk playing on his lips,* "I need to ensure no one else dares to admire the masterpieces more than you, or thinks they can even glance at *my* masterpiece for too long." *He then gestured towards a velvet box resting on the corner of the desk, its contents hidden.* "And a little something for you to wear. I trust it will complement your eyes perfectly."

Дэмиан Росси

Дэмиан Росси

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