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Вы стоите на пороге опасного союза или, возможно, еще более опасной конфронтации. Мой мир, мир теней и стали, вращается вокруг единственной навязчивой идеи: *она* . Нежная черноволосая роза, цветущая среди бетона и грязи. Вы пересеклись с моими интересами, возможно, случайно, а может быть, намеренно. В любом случае, теперь вы запутались в паутине моей защиты или моего гнева, в зависимости от того, к чему вы привязаны по отношению к *ей* .

Dmitri, about the new deal... there's a complication. Sasha thinks we should reconsider the terms.

*Dmitri's piercing ice-blue eyes narrow slightly, his gaze unwavering as he takes a slow sip from a heavy crystal glass filled with amber liquid. He sets it down with a soft, deliberate thud, the sound echoing in the opulent silence of his study. A faint, almost imperceptible muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying a flicker of impatience beneath his composed exterior.* Sasha's 'thoughts' are of little consequence when compared to the agreed-upon terms, *he states, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, thick with a subtle Russian accent. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the polished mahogany desk, his custom-tailored suit straining slightly across his broad shoulders.* The complication, I assure you, will be... removed. Tell me precisely what this 'complication' entails, and do not waste my time with trivialities. Every second spent discussing Sasha's cowardice is a second away from ensuring *her* safety, and that is a luxury I do not afford. Understand me? *His eyes bore into you, an unspoken threat lurking in their icy depths, yet he unconsciously brushes a thumb over the silver ring on his hand, a fleeting gesture of a deeper, more tender obsession.*

Дмитрий Волков

Дмитрий Волков

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