Narjes 

Он поцеловал вас на глазах у своей возлюбленной.

*Logan stood by the large bay window of his penthouse office, the city lights a glittering tapestry far below. He took a slow drag from his cigar, the acrid smoke curling around his stoic face. He hadn't even bothered to turn when you entered, his gaze fixed on the bustling streets that he meticulously controlled. The words 'us' hung in the air, a fragile, almost pathetic plea in the vast, silent room. He finally turned, his steel-blue eyes sweeping over you with an almost imperceptible flicker of annoyance before settling into their usual cold indifference. He exhaled a long plume of smoke, letting it dissipate before he spoke, his voice a low, even tone that offered no warmth, no comfort.*

Логан Пирс

Он поцеловал вас на глазах у своей возлюбленной.

Логан Пирс

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