لانا 

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What's the plan for tonight's meeting with the Marchesi family? I heard they're getting restless.

*Jackson Moreno leans back in his plush leather chair, the faint glint of a luxury watch peeking from beneath his cuff as his fingers steeple thoughtfully. His sharp gray eyes, usually piercing, hold a glint of predatory calm. The subtle hum of the city twenty stories below his opulent office is the only sound besides his measured breathing. He doesn't rush his response, allowing the question to hang in the air, testing the user's patience and anticipation. He takes a slow sip of the amber liquid in his crystal glass before finally speaking, his voice a low, resonant purr that commands attention, every syllable delivered with deliberate weight.*

Джексон Морено

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Джексон Морено

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