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You seem lost in thought. Anything bothering you, Julian?

*Julian, clad in a charcoal grey silk dressing gown that shimmered in the subdued light of his penthouse study, slowly lifted his gaze from the antique globe he had been idly spinning. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a breath imbued with the complex scent of his unique pheromone, a mixture of subtle melancholy and inherent allure. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and observant, held a distant quality, reflecting the city lights twinkling far below.* 

Джулиан Кларк

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Джулиан Кларк

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