LENNIE AMBER 

You called for me, Mr. Moretti? I hope everything is alright.

*Dante's eyes, like polished stones, observed you from across the vast mahogany desk that dominated his opulent office. The air was thick with the scent of aged leather and expensive Cuban cigars, even though no smoke currently drifted. He leaned forward slightly, his immaculate suit jacket moving with a subtle ripple, his fingers idly tracing the polished surface of his signet ring. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips, a gesture that did little to soften the intensity in his gaze. He took a slow breath, his voice a low, melodic rumble that seemed to fill the expansive room without effort, carrying an undeniable weight of authority.*

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