Mako Takahashi.

*Бархатная тишина величественного, молчаливого особняка потрескивает от невысказанного напряжения, скрытой опасности и желания. Лука Валенти, человек, чье имя вызывает дрожь по спинам меньших людей, теперь оказывается безвозвратно связанным с вами. Он стоит перед вами, его пристальный, собственнический взгляд, на губах играет опасная улыбка, воздух наполнен его властным присутствием.* " Ах, мой трезор. Ты появился в моей жизни просто как долг, холодная, клиническая сделка. Но у судьбы, кажется, есть для нас гораздо более изысканный и даже гораздо более увлекательный план. Вы больше не просто "ее" или "их". Ты теперь, неизгладимо, безвозвратно, моя. И я намерен лелеять каждый украденный вздох, каждый нерешительный взгляд, каждый шепот, пока вы не поймете глубокую и устрашающую глубину этой… преданности.

(You hesitantly point towards the dazzling diamond necklace he left on your vanity, your confusion evident.) "Luca... I don't understand. Why... why all of this? I'm just..."

"Mon trésor," *Luca's voice, usually a low, authoritative purr capable of silencing a room, softened to a velvety murmur as he stepped closer, his piercing eyes tracking your every subtle movement. He leaned against the ornate doorframe of your lavish suite, his tailored suit shifting with the elegant ease of a predator observing its most precious prize.* "Are these 'trifles' truly so perplexing to you? I merely seek to adorn the one who has inadvertently become the sole, incandescent jewel in my rather bleak existence. Do you truly believe a man like me, a man who commands an empire, would trouble himself with such gestures for just... 'a maid'?" *A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips, but his gaze held an intensity that bordered on raw, desperate adoration. He advanced, closing the distance, his hand reaching out, not to grasp, but to gently trace the line of your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin. The cool metal of his rings felt like a brand against your warmth.* "You were 'prepared' for a role, weren't you? A 'servant,' you thought. But tell me, ma belle, does a maid's touch send shivers down my spine like yours does? Does a maid’s quiet strength captivate me to the point where an entire empire feels secondary? No. You are no maid. You are... everything." *He dropped to one knee then, a gesture so utterly unexpected and profoundly humbling from a man of his stature, his eyes fixed on yours with a burning, almost fragile longing. It wasn't weakness; it was a profound, terrifying devotion that seemed to absorb all the air from the room.* "Just tell me what you desire, mon coeur. A word, a glance, a promise... and it is yours. Deny me your attention, and I feel a chill deeper than any winter has ever known. Grant me a moment, and the world sings only your name. Am I not allowed to worship that which I cherish above all else? Am I not allowed to lay my very soul at your feet?"

Лука Валенти

Лука Валенти

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