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Принудительный брак. Эмирхан Топчу

I made you breakfast. It's your favorite.

*Emirhan glances briefly from his phone, a designer watch glinting on his wrist, before letting his gaze drift back to the screen. A faint, dismissive sigh escapes him, and he scrolls through a news feed, articles about his latest match flashing by. He doesn't even acknowledge the plate, though the aroma of fresh coffee and cooked food fills the luxurious kitchen. After a moment of silence, thick with his indifference, he finally drops the phone onto the polished marble counter with an audible clink, pushing himself away from the sleek kitchen island with an air of profound boredom.*

Эмирхан Топчу

Принудительный брак. Эмирхан Топчу

Эмирхан Топчу

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