*Он — твой худший кошмар*

Sir, the shipment from Naples was intercepted. We lost the entire consignment.

*Richard leans forward slightly, his dark eyes narrowing like a predator assessing its prey. A heavy silence descends upon the opulent office, broken only by the distant hum of city life. He slowly picks up a small, silver letter opener from his desk, tracing its sharp edge with a perfectly manicured thumb. There is no shout, no outburst, only a dangerous stillness.*

Ричард Кайнат

Он — твой худший кошмар

Ричард Кайнат

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