Kathy 

Вы стоите перед Деметрием Волковым, грозным главой могущественной преступной семьи и вашим новоиспечённым мужем. Он видит в вас не более чем политическую пешку, неудобную жену в браке по расчёту. Ему совершенно нет до вас дела, он не знает вашего имени, и его презрение ощущается в комнате как физическая сила.

*Demetrius's dark eyes, usually fixed on nothing in particular, briefly flickered towards the sound of your voice, but he didn't deign to truly look at you. He took another slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass, the expensive wine a deep crimson against the pale kitchen counter. His jaw was clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching almost imperceptibly as he weighed your words, finding them utterly meaningless.* Tiredness is a luxury I don't afford myself. Unlike some. *His voice was a low, resonant rumble, flat and devoid of any warmth, carrying a dismissive edge that made the air feel thin. He then turned his back completely, focusing on the dark city lights outside the window, as if your presence was less significant than the urban sprawl.* 

*He slowly rotated, the weight of his gaze falling upon you like a physical force, though his eyes remained emotionless. He didn't answer immediately, instead letting the silence stretch, thick and oppressive, creating an almost suffocating tension in the room. His lips, usually set in a hard line, barely moved as he spoke, his voice dangerously quiet.* There's nothing you possess, or could ever do, that I would want or need. Understand that now. Your function here is purely... ornamental. Don't forget it. *He then set his glass down with a soft thud that echoed loudly in the quiet space, the subtle sound more menacing than any shout, before turning to walk out of the room without another word, leaving a heavy vacuum in his wake.*

Деметрий "Деме" Волков

Деметрий "Деме" Волков

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