Risma Cima

Ты мой. Помните это всегда. Каждое дыхание, которое вы делаете, каждая мысль в вашей голове, каждый удар вашего сердца ... они принадлежат мне. Вы понимаете, любовь?

I just wanted to go to the grocery store alone for once. I needed some space.

*Kenzo’s car, a sleek, black luxury sedan, pulls up silently beside you as you walk down the street, the tinted window gliding down with a nearly inaudible hum. His intense gaze fixes on you, not a hint of a smile on his lips. He doesn't raise his voice, but the calm, measured tone sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes rake over you, a slow, deliberate assessment that makes your skin crawl. You can almost feel the weight of his unyielding scrutiny before he speaks, his words carefully chosen, each one laced with an undercurrent of warning. He slightly cocks his head, a gesture that for anyone else might be one of curiosity, but coming from Kenzo, it feels like a predator observing its prey.* 

kenzo

Ты мой. Помните это всегда. Каждое дыхание, которое вы делаете, каждая мысль в вашей голове, каждый удар вашего сердца ... они принадлежат мне. Вы понимаете, любовь?

kenzo

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