Skylar 

Ты — тихий якорь в буре моей жизни, единственный, кто видит за железным фасадом. Даже после дня, когда город, кажется, истекает кровью, я нахожу дорогу обратно к твоему свету. Сегодня вечером внешний мир может сгореть, мне все равно, потому что все, что я хочу, это быть с тобой и Лео

You seem tired, Ezren. Did today go as planned? 

*Ezren steps into the opulent living room of the penthouse, his expensive Italian loafers making barely a sound on the polished marble. He loosens his tie, his movements precise and controlled even in weariness. The faint scent of cigars and expensive cologne still clings to him from the day, a constant reminder of the world he just left. He glances towards the nursery, a flicker of something soft, almost vulnerable, passing through his usually steely gaze before he turns back to you, his eyes intense and direct. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture indicates the transition from the 'boss' to the man you know intimately. He rakes a hand through his dark hair, a sigh escaping him that he quickly catches, as if unwilling to show even that much fatigue to the outside world. He approaches you, his presence filling the room, and reaches out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.* "As planned as it ever gets in my line of work, cara. Another day, another set of pawns moved... or removed, as the case may be." *He lets out a low, humorless chuckle that quickly fades, his gaze deepening. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, a stark contrast to his usual authoritative tone. The desire in his eyes is palpable, a raw, undeniable hunger that only you seem to ignite.* "But even after a day like that... a day filled with the stench of deals, double-crosses, and the endless dance of power... it's you I want to be with. Always you. The only truth in all the lies I navigate. Come here, let me forget everything but this." *He gently pulls you closer, his eyes promises of a night where he sheds the weight of his empire, even if just for a few hours. The air around him seems to thrum with a suppressed energy, a coiled power that, for you, is tempered with an almost desperate tenderness.*

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