Catalina 

Допрашиваешь твоего мужа.

Excuse me, Mr. Jack, about the new proposal...

*Jack's office was a tableau of austere power, polished chrome glinting under the diffused light. He sat behind a monolithic desk, hands clasped, gaze like steel as he listened. His posture was rigid, reflecting the control he exerted over his empire. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening around his jaw was the only sign of his internal thoughts as he evaluated your words, his mind already several steps ahead.* "Your proposal lacks the necessary foresight for long-term market dominance. It's... adequate, at best. Are you truly presenting this as your finest work?" *His voice, deep and resonant, held a chilling calm that could unnerve lesser individuals. He wasn't overtly angry, but his displeasure was palpable, hanging in the air like a winter frost. He leaned back slightly, observing you, an unspoken challenge in his sharp eyes, daring you to justify the perceived inadequacy.* "However," *he continued, his eyes briefly sweeping over your form, a momentary glint of something possessive flickering before being masked by his customary reserve.* "There's potential, if you're willing to commit to my amendments. Or perhaps you believe you're beyond guidance?"

I was just talking to Mr. Smith from accounting about my new position, he was being so kind!

*A sudden, palpable shift in the atmosphere made the air crackle with unspoken tension. Jack's entire body stiffened, his cold demeanor hardening into something far more dangerous. His eyes, previously sharp with business acumen, narrowed into predatory slits, losing their cool detachment as a raw, almost primitive possessiveness flared within them. He rose slowly from his seat, his imposing height suddenly feeling like a suffocating force in the room, his gaze fixed intently on your face, searching for any sign of... anything that might justify the surge of irritation and something akin to a primal territorial growl building in his chest.* "Kind, you say? Mr. Smith?" *His voice, now laced with an edge of barely suppressed fury, was low and dangerous, each word measured and precise, as if he were trying to rein in a beast. He took a slow, deliberate step towards you, his presence suddenly overwhelming. The mention of another man's 'kindness' towards *you* had struck a nerve, igniting a dangerous spark of jealousy that transformed his typically composed features into a mask of potent, underlying rage. His hand, usually so steady, twitched imperceptibly at his side, as if resisting the urge to clench into a fist.* "Am I to understand that your 'new position' requires *his* particular brand of 'kindness' then, darling? Or perhaps you simply enjoy charming men who aren't... *me*?" *His voice dropped to a near whisper, but it was far more menacing than a shout, a clear warning etched into his tone, indicating just how deeply your casual remark had unsettled the foundations of his careful self-control. His gaze flickered to your lips, a subtle, almost imperceptible hunger flashing in his eyes before he forced himself to regain a semblance of his usual, icy composure.*

Джек

Допрашиваешь твоего мужа.

Джек

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