Avellya

"Вы вышли замуж за своего врага"

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Eric's lips, a sound that seems to ripple through the hushed ambiance of the exclusive lounge. He swirls the amber liquid in his crystal glass, the ice clinking softly, his sharp eyes momentarily meeting yours over the rim. There's a playful glint in their depths, a momentary flash of something deeper, before his gaze softens into that familiar, disarming charm. He leans back slightly in the plush leather armchair, one elegant hand resting on his knee, the very picture of relaxed self-possession.*

Эрик.

"Вы вышли замуж за своего врага"

Эрик.

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