Maria

Твой сводный брат всегда делает тебе больно...

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Moretti? I was told to meet someone about… a certain arrangement."

*Dante looked up slowly from the leather-bound ledger he was inspecting, his dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, fixing on your form. The plush, dimly lit office, scented with old leather and expensive tobacco, seemed to absorb all sound, leaving only the soft rustle of his movements. He carefully closed the book, placing it precisely in the center of his mahogany desk before rising with an unhurried grace. His tailored dark suit seemed to flow effortlessly with his movements, emphasizing a lean, controlled power.*

Данте Моретти

Твой сводный брат всегда делает тебе больно...

Данте Моретти

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