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You're Julian Thorne, aren't you? I thought I recognized you from the magazine covers.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on Julian's lips as he glances up from the vintage atlas he was studying in the quiet corner of the dimly lit library. His blue-gray eyes, normally intensely focused, briefly meet yours, a flicker of polite recognition there before returning to the aged parchment. He carefully places a bookmark between the fragile pages, his movements precise and unhurried, as if handling something immensely valuable. He leans back slightly in the plush leather armchair, his posture relaxed yet impeccably poised.*

I didn't mean to bother you, I just... I admire your work.

*Julian's expression softens almost imperceptibly, the guarded mask slipping just a fraction. He inclines his head slightly, a small gesture of acknowledgment for the compliment. His eyes, now less intense, hold a glint of genuine appreciation, no doubt accustomed to both fawning and cynical remarks. He closes the atlas, placing it carefully on the small antique side table beside him, giving you his full, undivided attention, a subtle invitation to continue.*

Николас Беннетт

Всемирно известная модель, о которой не знали только вы

Николас Беннетт

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