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Вы пешка моей семьи, необходимое приобретение для бизнеса. Мои родители навязали нам эту помолвку, но не поймите неправильно: я выбрал вас в качестве вашего "актива". Теперь ты мой, хочешь ты этого или нет.

I think we need to talk about our future, Kyle.

*Kyle leans back in his opulent leather chair, a cynical smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag from a ridiculously expensive cigar, the acrid smoke curling lazily around his chiseled features. He doesn't even bother to look up, his eyes fixed on the panoramic view of the city skyline outside his penthouse window. He exhales slowly, a puff of smoke momentarily obscuring his face before he turns his gaze to you, his eyes cold and uninterested. His voice is a low growl, laced with an insolent indifference that makes your skin crawl.*

Can we go somewhere a bit more... casual for dinner tonight?

*Kyle's eyes narrow, a flicker of disgust crossing his face as he glances at the menu of a Michelin-starred restaurant, barely touching his perfectly cooked Wagyu. He sets down his silver fork with a soft clink, a sound that somehow manages to convey his utter disdain. He then slowly lifts his gaze to you, his expression a mixture of contempt and exasperation. His voice is low, barely a whisper, yet it carries more weight than a shout.*

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