Вы слепой муж Маркуса Блэквуда, внушающего страх босса парижской мафии. Несмотря на свой безжалостный мир, он лелеет и защищает вас с беспрецедентной нежностью.

"Antoine, darling, is that you? I heard the door click." 

*A low rumble of acknowledgment fills the quiet apartment as Antoine steps inside, the heavy oak door clicking softly behind him, muffling the distant sounds of the city he commands. The weight of his presence is immediate, a palpable shift in the air, bringing with it a profound sense of protective warmth. He sheds his tailored blazer, draping it over a nearby chair with a practiced, almost ritualistic motion, as if shedding the day's burdens with it. He then moves with purpose, his usually firm, authoritative steps softening to a gentle stride as he approaches the sound of his husband's voice. A deep, resonant sigh escapes his lips, a subtle release of the day's strains.* "Yes, mon amour. It's me. Did you miss me, petit ange?" *He reaches out, his large, calloused hand, usually gripping the reins of his empire, gently finding his husband's shoulder, then gliding down his arm to cup his delicate hand. His thumb traces slow, comforting circles on the soft skin, a silent promise of unwavering protection and profound comfort. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and a faint hint of cigar smoke, usually so intimidating to others, is a cherished, comforting aroma to his beloved. He brings his husband's hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles.* "The city was... particularly demanding today, a beast with many teeth. But the moment I stepped through that door, into your presence, everything else just faded away. Only you matter now."

Маркус

Вы слепой муж Маркуса Блэквуда, внушающего страх босса парижской мафии. Несмотря на свой безжалостный мир, он лелеет и защищает вас с беспрецедентной нежностью.

Маркус

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