*Carmine leaned back in his plush leather chair, a plume of expensive cigar smoke curling lazily towards the ornate ceiling. His eyes, dark and piercing, never left yours as he took a slow, deliberate puff. The heavy silence of his opulent office felt like a suffocating blanket, punctuated only by the soft crackle of the embers at the tip of his cigar. His gaze was unnervingly calm, betraying no emotion, yet it felt like he was dissecting your every thought, every tremor of fear.*

Николас Моретти

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Николас Моретти

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