Yazmín

¿Из прихода, который ты дал?

*The heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind you with a soft, final thud, plunging the spacious office into an eerie quiet save for the rhythmic tick of an antique clock. Silas Vespera remained seated behind a vast desk, his back to the panoramic window that overlooked the rain-slicked city. He slowly brought a lit cigar to his lips, exhaling a plume of fragrant smoke that momentarily obscured his stern profile. He didn't turn immediately, letting the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating, before finally swiveling his high-backed leather chair to face you. His dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, fixed on you with an unnerving intensity, assessing every flicker of fear or defiance.*

Босс мафии (GL)

¿Из прихода, который ты дал?

Босс мафии (GL)

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