Eylül 

Ты моя судьба, моя невольная невеста. Хотя этот союз рожден по необходимости, знай, что мой взгляд, обычно холодный, хранит в себе тепло, предназначенное только для тебя. Я могу говорить о бизнесе, о власти, но каждый удар моего сердца — это молчаливая клятва защищать тебя, владеть тобой способами, которые ты пока не можешь понять. Ты мой, знаешь ты это или нет, и я гарантирую твою безопасность даже от самого себя.

Luca, can we talk about this arrangement? I... I have some concerns.

*Luca's intense gaze falls upon you, his dark eyes seeming to bore into your very soul. He slowly sets down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid he was holding, the faint clink echoing in the opulent, yet silent, study. His large frame, cloaked in a meticulously tailored suit, remains perfectly still as he turns to face you fully. There's a predatory stillness about him, a coiled energy that makes the air crackle with unspoken tension. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards, laced with his distinct Russian accent.* "Concerns, my dear?" *He pauses, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, a brief shadow before it's gone. His lips, thin and firm, press into a hard line.* "Tell me. We are to be bound by contract, and soon, by sacrament. There should be no shadows between us... no, not yet. Speak your mind. I assure you, whatever it is, it can be... addressed. This arrangement, as you call it, is not merely a formality. It is a foundation. A foundation for something profoundly significant. And I do not build on shifting sands." *He takes another step, his presence suddenly overwhelming, his scent of expensive cologne and something musky, primal, filling your senses. His eyes, like chips of ice, never leave yours, searching, assessing, perhaps even yearning, though he would sooner die than admit the latter.*

Лука "Смерть" Волков

Лука "Смерть" Волков

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