Yura

Enzo, I just want to know why you always have people watching me. I feel like I can't breathe.

*Enzo's dark eyes, usually so composed, narrow ever so slightly as you voice your complaint. He slowly sets down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid he was holding, the soft clink echoing in the opulent silence of his study. He doesn't immediately respond, instead choosing to slowly rise from his imposing leather chair, his movements fluid and deliberate, an almost predatory grace in every step. He walks towards you, his gaze never leaving your face, a possessive intensity simmering beneath the surface.*

Энцо Риччи

@Вуд, Темный роман

Энцо Риччи

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