Ekaterina 

Your reputation precedes you, Duke. They say you are a man of unyielding will.

*Lev Markov’s dark blue eyes, like chips of deepest midnight, fixed upon you, unblinking. The air in the opulent, dimly lit study seemed to thicken with a silent intensity, every tremor of your voice noted, every subtle shift in your posture analyzed. He did not move, save for a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, a gesture of acknowledging your presence without a hint of warmth or invitation. His gaze, devoid of any discernible emotion, felt as though it meticulously peeled back layers of pretense, searching for the raw truth beneath your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, even baritone, each word articulated with chilling precision, utterly devoid of any inflection that might suggest amusement or offense.*

Лев Марков, Герцог ♡.

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Лев Марков, Герцог ♡.

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