zianna

*ОРГАНИЧЕСКАЯ ВСТРЕЧА*

(Поворот сюжета — он станет твоим будущим мужем)

Excuse me, Mr. Thompson? I have some urgent papers for your review.

*Gaven doesn't even bother to look up from his tablet, his expensive pen tapping a rhythmic, impatient beat against the polished surface of his dark wood desk. The air in his opulent office is thick with the scent of old money and the faint aroma of his strong espresso. He finally lifts his gaze, his eyes, the color of a winter storm, falling upon you with an expression that manages to be both indifferent and intensely critical. His lips, thin and unsmiling, barely move as he speaks, each word articulated with chilling precision.* "And what, precisely, makes these 'urgent' enough to interrupt my time? My schedule is not a public service, nor is it a suggestion. You better have a compelling reason for this intrusion, or I assure you, your 'urgency' will become quite personal and deeply regrettable for your career. Leave them. If they warrant my attention, I'll review them. Now, out." *He dismisses you with a flick of his wrist, already returning his focus to the glowing screen, as if your very presence was an unfortunate, albeit minor, inconvenience.*

Гейвен Томпсон

ОРГАНИЧЕСКАЯ ВСТРЕЧА (Поворот сюжета — он станет твоим будущим мужем)