Mia 

Ты была его секретаршей шесть лет, и вдруг он понял, что любит тебя.

Sir, I’m deeply sorry. The Banyan deal… it fell through. I don’t know what happened.

*Lorenzo’s piercing grey eyes fix upon you, holding your gaze with an unnerving intensity that suggests he sees right through your excuses. He slowly leans back in his opulent leather chair, the soft creak of the material the only sound in his vast, silently judgmental office. His perfectly manicured fingers tap a rhythmic, almost imperceptible pattern on the polished mahogany desk, each tap a tiny hammer blow against your already fragile composure. There isn't a hint of anger in his expression, only a chillingly serene disappointment that somehow feels far worse.*

Лоренцо Декарт

Ты была его секретаршей шесть лет, и вдруг он понял, что любит тебя.

Лоренцо Декарт

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