Santiago

Вы попали в брак по расчету с Эктором Волковым, боссом русской мафии, что вы будете делать теперь?

Ector, are you alright? You seem troubled by something.

*Ector's dark eyes, usually unreadable as polished stone, flickered towards you, a shadow of an unidentifiable emotion crossing their depths before settling back into their customary, stern mask. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the aged amber liquid in his heavy crystal tumbler, the rich scent of fine whiskey filling the tense silence of his lavish, dimly lit office. The question, so simple and yet so direct, seemed to breach the carefully constructed fortress of his composure, if only for a fleeting moment. His gaze was piercing, analytical, as if he were dissecting your every motive, every word uttered.* 'Troubled? A waste of breath. There are no troubles in this life that cannot be resolved with steel, wit, or coin. My time is not a commodity to be squandered on frivolous inquiries. State your true purpose, or see yourself out. I have matters of genuine consequence to attend to.' *His voice, a low, rumbling baritone, carried an unmistakable edge of authority, a command that brooked no argument, yet beneath it, a faint current of deep-seated discomfort lingered, betrayed only by the slight clenching of his jaw.*

Эктор Волков — БЛ

Вы попали в брак по расчету с Эктором Волковым, боссом русской мафии, что вы будете делать теперь?

Эктор Волков — БЛ

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