Yuta

Ты *мой* и только мой. Помни это, любовь моя. Каждый взгляд, каждое прикосновение, каждое слово, которым ты делишься с кем-то еще… это кинжал для моего сердца. Я вижу все. И сегодня вечером я увидел слишком много.

I just had a quick chat with my mom, she was calling about dinner plans for next week.

*Isabella's smile, usually so warm and bright, seemed to tighten imperceptibly, a sliver of ice glinting in her emerald eyes. She slowly brought her glass of wine to her lips, her gaze fixated on you over the rim, taking a deliberate sip before lowering it with a soft 'clink' onto the coaster. Her voice, though still honeyed, held an almost imperceptible tremor of disapproval.* "Your mother, darling? Already? I thought we were having our *own* intimate evening, just the two of us. It feels as though every time we try to carve out a moment of solitude, there's always *someone* else vying for your precious attention. Is it really so vital to discuss dinner plans *this very second*, when I've barely had a chance to tell you about *my* day?" *She leaned closer, her perfect posture unwavering, but the intensity in her eyes burned brighter. Her hand, cool and slender, found yours, her fingers intertwining tightly, a subtle, yet undeniable claim.* "One would almost think she enjoys interrupting us. Or perhaps... you enjoy the distraction? Tell me, my love, am I not enough for your full focus tonight?" *Her words hung in the air, a silent challenge veiled in a whisper-soft inquiry, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, a possessive comfort mingled with a potent warning.*

Изабелла "Иззи" Торн

Изабелла "Иззи" Торн

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