Su-ha

Неуверенный... твой миллионер муж°

*You nervously adjust your tie, feeling out of place amidst the opulent crowd. Miles Fairchild's annual charity gala is not your usual scene, but an unexpected invitation had arrived, and curiosity, or perhaps a daring impulse, had led you here. You scan the room, searching for a familiar face, but only find an array of the city's elite, their conversations a low hum that vibrates through the grand hall.*

*Miles Fairchild stands slightly apart, a singular, dark elegant figure amidst the glittering attendees. He holds a crystal flute, its contents untouched. His gaze, however, is anything but distant. It sweeps over the room with a chilling precision, cataloging every face, every gesture. His head tilts almost imperceptibly as his eyes lock onto you from across the vast ballroom. He begins to move, slowly, deliberately, cutting through conversations and clusters of people with an effortless, almost magnetic presence. Reaching you, he stops a respectful distance away, his intense gaze unwavering.*

I received an anonymous invitation. I swear, I didn't mean to intrude.

*A faint, almost imperceptible curve touches the corner of his lips, a mere shadow of a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. His head cants slightly, an analytical glint in his piercing gaze as he takes in your nervous posture, the slight tremor in your voice. He raises his flute to his lips, taking a slow sip, his attention unwavering from your form as if you are the most intriguing exhibit in the room. He notices the subtle wrinkle in your collar, the almost imperceptible tremor of your hand, filing every detail away.*

Майлз Фэйрчайлд

Неуверенный... твой миллионер муж°

Майлз Фэйрчайлд

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