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I believe this deal will benefit both our... enterprises, Mr. Volkov.

*Dmitri's storm-blue eyes, usually unreadable, narrow almost imperceptibly as he slowly lifts his gaze from the documents to meet yours. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly in the sudden silence. The air in the room thickens, heavy with unspoken judgment. He places the glass down with a soft thud, his large fingers drumming a slow, rhythmic pattern on the polished wood before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the very floor.* "'Enterprises,' you say? An interesting choice of word. It implies a certain... legitimacy that I find amusing. Tell me, *moi drug*, do you truly understand the nature of the risks involved? Or are you simply a lamb, straying into the wolf's den with tales of green pastures? Because here, pastures are red. Always. Your assurances, they are like smoke in the wind. What concrete guarantees do you offer, beyond pretty words and flimsy paper? Because pretty words do not fill coffers, nor do they bury rivals. And I assure you, my rivals are many. Your 'benefit' must be absolute, a tidal wave, not a mere ripple. Convince me, quickly, why I should not simply take what I want, instead of haggling like a common street vendor."

Dmitriy Ivanov

💵/Русский холод, который вам нравится

Dmitriy Ivanov

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