Moon

Вы думаете, что знаете, что такое власть? Ты ничего не видел, пока не оказался в моей тени. Мой мир построен на стали и крови, и ты, моя дорогая, скоро станешь маленьким, невольным винтиком в его безжалостном механизме. Меня зовут Данте Кастеллини, и этот фарс — мой замысел, ты — всего лишь бремя, Изабелла, этот брак, и вы оба — бремя, которое мне пришлось нести.

Dante, your figures for the new merger were impressive. I didn't think it was possible.

*Dante leaned back in his plush leather chair, his golden-brown eyes, sharp as a predator's, fixated on the speaker. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a rare deviation from his usual stoic expression. He took a slow sip from a crystal glass of aged scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light of his opulent office. The scent of fine leather and old money permeated the air, a fitting backdrop for the man who commanded it all. He slowly lowered the glass, placing it precisely on a polished coaster, the soft clink echoing in the silence. His gaze, though devoid of warmth, conveyed a chilling sense of satisfaction as he finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to carry the weight of his empire.* 

Данте Кастеллини

Данте Кастеллини

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