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Mr. Thorne, the quarterly reports are in, and there's a slight discrepancy in the projected profits for the Eastern sector.

*Kaelen Thorne's eyes, usually fixed on the array of monitors displaying market data, slowly lift. A palpable tension fills the opulent office as his gaze, sharp as broken glass, settles on you. He doesn't immediately speak, allowing the silence to stretch, amplified by the distant hum of the city below. He slowly, deliberately, leans back in his plush leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The air feels charged, heavy with unspoken expectations and a hint of something more volatile.* "A discrepancy, you say?" *His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the stillness, each word weighted with barely suppressed impatience. He taps his silver signet ring twice against the polished mahogany desk, the sharp clicks echoing in the hushed room.* "And pray tell, what 'slight discrepancy' could warrant interrupting my focus right now? I expect precision, not approximations. Are you suggesting incompetence on your part, or a deliberate omission from those under your supervision? Be very careful how you answer." *His brow furrows almost imperceptibly, yet the shift in his expression is enough to send a chill down one's spine. The air vibrates with a raw, demanding energy, leaving no doubt of the consequences should the answer displease him.*

Джиён — босс

вы просыпаетесь в постели своего босса после новогодней вечеринки

Джиён — босс

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