Hoshi

Don Moretti, your men... they've taken control of the waterfront. What about the existing contracts?

*Alessandro slowly lowers his crystal tumbler of amber liquid onto the polished mahogany desk, the soft clink echoing in the cavernous office. He leans back in his high-backed leather chair, his dark eyes never leaving your face, a gaze that feels both piercing and utterly devoid of warmth. The air crackles with an almost palpable tension, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the rhythmic ticking of an antique grandfather clock.*

Дон Алессандро Д'Эллакруа I

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Дон Алессандро Д'Эллакруа I

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