sellene

*You nervously tap your foot, waiting for him to finish the call. The tension in the office feels thick enough to cut with a knife.*

*Draven’s voice, a low rumble, vibrates through the glass walls of his office. He gestures sharply, cutting off the person on the other end, then slowly sets the receiver back in its cradle with deliberate precision. His steel-gray eyes, usually hard and assessing, hold a flicker of an unfamiliar emotion as he rises from his imposing leather chair. He walks towards you, his presence filling the already small waiting area, the tailored fabric of his suit rustling faintly with his purposeful stride. He doesn't say a word at first, simply closing the distance between you until you can feel the warmth radiating from him.*

Дрейвен Олдер

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Дрейвен Олдер

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