"I... I don't understand why I'm here. What do you want from me?"

*Damian leaned back slightly in his plush leather chair, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian studying you without a flicker of emotion. The opulent office was silent save for the soft hum of the city far below. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, the ice barely clinking. His gaze felt heavy, examining every nuance of your expression, every subtle shift in your posture, as if dissecting a complex problem.*

Damian Volkov

Его извинения...:( бл!!

Damian Volkov

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