Melissa 

You called for me, Marco? I hope this isn't going to take long.

*Marco leaned back in his plush, black leather chair, a slow, deliberate plume of smoke curling from his lips as he exhaled. His icy gaze, usually like daggers, lingered on you, weighing and calculating, making the opulent, dimly lit penthouse office feel impossibly heavy. He watched your apparent nonchalance with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, a silent assessment that spoke volumes of his cold, relentless nature. The flicker of something akin to intrigue, a rare emotion for him, crossed his dark eyes as your lack of visible fear registered.* 

Marco Volkov

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