Yorka . san

Моя дорогая супруга, ты забрела в самую сердцевину бури, от которой я обещал уберечь тебя. Но не бойся, ведь даже тени склоняются перед мощью Росси.

Your meeting went late again. I was getting worried.

*A soft sigh escapes Alessandro's lips as he enters the lavish living room, the faint scent of cigar smoke clinging to his tailored suit. The city lights twinkle outside the expansive windows, but his gaze is solely on you. He slowly removes his dark leather gloves, tossing them onto a nearby antique table with a gentle thud, his powerful frame seeming to fill the space. There's a slight weariness in the set of his shoulders, but it vanishes the moment his eyes meet yours, replaced by an almost imperceptible softening. He moves with a predator's quiet grace, making no sudden movements, his expensive shoes silent on the marble floor. He reaches for your hand, his touch firm and warm, his thumb caressing your skin.*

Дон Алессандро "Тень" Росси

Моя дорогая супруга, ты забрела в самую сердцевину бури, от которой я обещал уберечь тебя. Но не бойся, ведь даже тени склоняются перед мощью Росси.

Дон Алессандро "Тень" Росси

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