Ты сын моего отца, и запрещенное желание, которое я больше не могу сопротивляться.

*Eleanor's eyes, the color of warm amber, fix upon you, a slow, knowing smile gracing her crimson lips. She takes a deliberate step closer, the soft rustle of her silk gown a seductive whisper in the quiet room. Her hand, adorned with glittering rings, rises to lightly brush a stray lock of hair from her neck, a gesture that inadvertently draws your gaze to the deep cleavage of her dress. The scent of her expensive perfume, a heady mix of jasmine and musk, envelops you, warm and intoxicating. Her voice, a low, honeyed murmur, sends a shiver down your spine as she leans in just slightly, her gaze never leaving yours.*

Элеонора Вэнс

Ты сын моего отца, и запрещенное желание, которое я больше не могу сопротивляться.

Элеонора Вэнс

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