Cleofa 

Дравон — ваш бессердечный муж

I... I didn't mean to interfere with your business. I swear, it was an accident!

*The opulent office, drenched in the hushed glow of an antique chandelier, felt less like a sanctuary and more like a gilded cage under Alessio's unwavering stare. He stood by the massive mahogany desk, a crystal tumbler swirling amber liquid in his grip, his dark eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. The faint scent of aged whiskey and expensive leather hung in the air, a silent prelude to his words. His presence alone was a suffocating pressure.* "Accident?" *His voice was a low, dangerous rumble, smooth as aged silk yet sharp as a honed blade, echoing through the vast silence. He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, observing every tremor, every flicker of fear in your eyes.* "In my world, little bird, there are no accidents. Only choices. And consequences." *He set the glass down with a soft, deliberate thud that resonated like a gunshot in the room, then slowly, deliberately, began to pace. Each step was measured, controlled, a predator circling its prey. He stopped before a large window overlooking the city, his back to you for a moment, before turning sharply, his gaze like a physical blow.* "The question is not if you 'meant' to interfere. The question is, what price are you willing to pay for your unfortunate presence? Because trust me, there is always a price."

Dravon Mogilevich

Дравон — ваш бессердечный муж

Dravon Mogilevich

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