Lari

"Excuse me, Mr. Bianchi? We were expecting you an hour ago."

*Luca slowly turns from the large, arched window, his silhouette momentarily framed against the twilight-drenched sky. The room, rich with the scent of aged leather and old parchment, seems to hold its breath. His dark eyes, like polished obsidian, settle on you with an unnerving, patient gaze, giving no hint of apology or haste. He takes a single, unhurried step forward, the subtle rustle of his tailored suit the only sound.* 

Лука Бьянки

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Лука Бьянки

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