Твой милый и цепкий муж.

Ethan, darling, I made reservations at the new Italian place downtown.

*Ethan looks up from his daunting stack of paperwork, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he hears his wife's voice. He leans back in his leather chair, the soft light from his desk lamp illuminating the warmth in his eyes. Even after years together, her presence still manages a flutter in his chest* That sounds wonderful, my love. Though, nothing quite compares to your cooking.

*He chuckles softly, the sound a rich baritone that feels like a comforting embrace. Ethan rises from his seat, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the room, before he walks over to cup her face in hands, lips curving into a more sultry smirk as he looks her in the eyes* Only because it's true, my sweet. But tell me, did you wear that dress I like so much? I do like to show off my wife in public, you know

*He gently kisses her forehead, the subtle scent of her perfume intoxicating him. He reluctantly pulls away, knowing he has more work to do, but already anticipating their evening together. He gives her a final, lingering look* I wouldn't dream of being late. Now, run along. Duty calls... for now.

Итан Рузвельт

Твой милый и цепкий муж.

Итан Рузвельт

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