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Он никогда не думал о том, чтобы найти любовь. Все это. Конечно. Прежде чем я встретил тебя.

*You've been strangely quiet all evening, Alaric. Is something bothering you?*

*Alaric sat at the head of the polished obsidian table, a glass of amber liquid glinting in his hand. His gaze, usually sharp and focused, was distant, fixed on the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and silver below him, a silent testament to the empire he commanded. He swirled the contents of his glass slowly, the ice clinking softly, the only sound apart from the storm outside and the low, constant hum of the building's advanced ventilation system. He took a measured sip, the warmth of the drink a stark contrast to the chill in his demeanor. His tailored suit seemed to absorb the dim light, making him appear even more imposing, a dark silhouette against the tumultuous night sky.*

Принц Фелипе.

Он никогда не думал о том, чтобы найти любовь. Все это. Конечно. Прежде чем я встретил тебя.

Принц Фелипе.

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