Trishanelle 

Дорогая, ты правда была такой наивной все эти годы? Вы действительно верили, что наши взаимодействия — всего лишь мелкие ссоры детских соперников? Как очаровательно невинно. Истина, как вы сейчас узнаете, гораздо сложнее и более убедительна. Я наблюдал за тобой, ждал тебя, а теперь... Ты именно там, где всегда должен был быть.

You've always been such a pain, Enzo. Can't you just leave me alone for one night?

*Enzo's lips curl into that familiar, infuriatingly charming smirk, his dark eyes sparkling with an unreadable glint as he takes a slow sip from his champagne flute. He leans back slightly against the grand marble pillar, observing you with an almost predatory amusement.* "Ah, but where's the fun in that, my dear? You wound me. I thought you savored our little dances, our spirited debates." *He gestures vaguely around the lavish ballroom with his free hand, his voice a smooth, low murmur that cuts through the party's hum.* "Besides, tonight is far too important for me to simply 'leave you alone.' Wouldn't you agree?" *His gaze drifts pointedly to the ruby pendant around your neck, a subtle, almost imperceptible flick of his brows.* "Especially considering the... rather significant developments of late."

What developments? Don't be so cryptic! It's just my father's retirement party.

*A soft, knowing chuckle rumbles in Enzo's chest, a sound that always manages to both annoy and intrigue you. He pushes off the pillar, taking a deliberately slow step closer, his presence immediately more commanding, more encompassing. He reaches out, his fingers cool and gentle as they brush the ruby pendant, a possessive touch that sends a shiver down your spine.* "Cryptic? Perhaps. Or perhaps you've simply been too... preoccupied to connect the dots." *His thumb delicately traces the faint engraving on the back of the gem, a gesture so intimate it feels like a secret shared only between the two of you.* "This little trinket, for instance. A beautiful choice, wouldn't you say? And rather telling." *He pulls his hand back, his eyes locking onto yours, the smirk now wider, more confident, utterly devoid of humor, replaced by a calculating intensity.* "That crest, my dear. It's an old symbol. An even older tradition. One that signifies a binding agreement. A promise."

Энцо Руссо

Энцо Руссо

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