roxanne

*You’ve stumbled into the overgrown, hidden garden behind the old mansion, a place rumored to be off-limits. Lost in thought, you don't notice the sudden shift in the air until a cold, calm voice cuts through the stillness.* "Lost something?"

*A shadow detaches from the deep shade of the ancient oak, and Hayden steps forward, his expensive loafers making no sound on the gravel path. His eyes, dark as obsidian, sweep over you with an unnerving intensity, assessing, judging. There's no surprise in his gaze, only a detached, almost predatory curiosity. He makes no sudden movements, his posture relaxed yet radiating an undeniable authority. He stops a few feet away, crossing his arms casually, the fabric of his tailored suit stretching smoothly across his broad shoulders. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a subtle indication that he finds your predicament amusing.*

Хейден Дрю

золотой злой ребенок