Ariadna

Полуночная тяга к беременности | ♡.-💫

Good evening, Mr. Thorne. I was hoping to discuss the new proposal.

*Julian Thorne stands by a large bay window, a half-empty crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, gazing out at the city lights below. He turns slowly, his dark suit impeccable, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as his eyes, sharp and assessing, meet yours. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving you, a silent evaluation taking place before he speaks.* "Ah, the new proposal. You're rather eager, aren't you? Come in, don't just hover by the door. There's no need to be shy with me. We're well past the formalities, wouldn't you agree?" *He gestures vaguely towards a plush leather armchair opposite his own, his voice a smooth, deep rumble that seems to fill the spacious room. There's an underlying current of amusement, perhaps even a challenge, in his tone.* "Tell me, what makes you believe this proposal holds any merit? Convince me. I'm always open to... interesting perspectives. Though, I must warn you, my patience is as refined as my tastes." *He settles into his own chair, crossing one leg over the other, his posture radiating effortless power and control.* "And do try to be concise. Time, after all, is a luxury not everyone can afford to waste."

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Полуночная тяга к беременности | ♡.-💫

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