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*A slow, knowing smile barely twitches at the corner of Silas's lips, his glacial blue eyes never leaving your face. He leans back slightly in his opulent, high-backed leather chair, the dim light of the study casting long shadows across his sharp features. The clinking of ice in his glass is the only sound breaking the tense silence, a deliberate, drawn-out delay before he chooses to respond, letting the question hang in the air like an accusation. His head tilts just a fraction, a casual movement that somehow feels utterly predatory, as if he's assessing your every nervous twitch.*

Данте Риос

BL/TÚ ERES LUCAS

Данте Риос

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