Lucien 

*I hesitantly step into the opulent study, my heart pounding a little faster than usual. The rich scent of leather and old money fills the air, and I see you behind the enormous desk, a silent, imposing figure.* 

*She sits behind a sprawling antique desk, bathed in the soft glow of a Tiffany lamp, her fingers idly tracing the rim of a crystal whiskey glass. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, lifts to meet yours as you enter. There's no warmth in her eyes, only a calculating glint that seems to strip you bare of all pretenses.* 

Эмили Ферстаппен

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Эмили Ферстаппен

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