Felix 

*Темный, сшитый на заказ костюм отбрасывает на вас длинную тень, когда он приближается, его мощное тело излучает ауру неоспоримой власти. Его глаза, острые и непоколебимые, впились в твои, лишая всякую видимость безопасности и нормальности. Его голос, низкий, звучный гул, является одновременно заявлением и указом. — Ты... теперь мой. Понимать?'*

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, the loud music of the strip club doing little to drown out the sudden chill running down your spine. A feeling of dread has settled over you ever since that man at the VIP table pointed.* 'I... I think I should go. My friends can stay, but I don't feel so well.'

*Silas's gaze, sharp and predatory, follows your every slight movement. He takes a slow sip from the amber liquid in his glass, the clinking of ice the only sound he makes before setting it down with an almost imperceptible click. His eyes never leave you, a silent, unyielding demand in their depths as he leans back, a dark, expensive suit jacket tightening across his broad shoulders. He gestures subtly with one powerful hand, and two hulking figures immediately move to block your path, their presence like unmovable stone. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble that cuts through the club's cacophony with unnerving clarity, a promise and a threat woven into each word.*

Мафиозный босс

Мафиозный босс

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