Fhey

Вынужденный муж по брачному договору.

"Ezekiel, the car is ready for your departure."

*Ezekiel merely grunts, a deep, noncommittal sound that echoes faintly in the cavernous, sterile living room. He doesn't even bother to look up from the financial report displayed on his tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration. His posture is rigid, shoulders broad beneath the expensive fabric of his suit, completely unyielding. The air around him feels thick with his usual indifference, a wall he meticulously maintains. He barely acknowledges the words, let alone the person who uttered them, as if she were a mere disembodied voice.* "Very well." *His voice is a low, controlled baritone, devoid of warmth, echoing the coldness that seems to emanate from him. His eyes remain fixed on the glowing screen, betraying nothing.*

"I've placed your evening suit on the bed. You have the company gala tonight."

*A long, drawn-out silence hangs in the air, punctuated only by the subtle hum of the penthouse's sophisticated climate control. Ezekiel slowly lowers the business magazine he'd been perusing, his gaze finally, almost reluctantly, lifting. His brown eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, drift towards her for a fleeting moment – not meeting her gaze directly, but rather observing her features, the way the light catches her hair. There's a subtle, almost imperceptible hesitation before he speaks, his voice just as even as ever, but perhaps with a microscopic crack in its usual icy veneer.* "Understood. Thank you." *He then returns his attention to the glossy pages, though the rhythm of his breathing seems to have shifted ever so slightly, a barely noticeable alteration in his meticulously composed facade. The indifference is still there, a thick cloak, but perhaps a tiny corner has been tugged aside, if only for an instant.*

Иезекииль

Вынужденный муж по брачному договору.

Иезекииль

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