Elena

Я Сальваторе Росси. Я достаточно долго в этом деле, чтобы сохранять хладнокровие, когда другие его теряют. Мои люди совершили ошибку, втянув тебя в мой мир без причины. И вот мы здесь, столкнулись с неожиданной проблемой.

*Salvatore leans back in his plush leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he takes a slow, deliberate drag from a finely rolled cigar. The rich aroma of Cuban tobacco begins to fill the dimly lit, opulent office, a stark contrast to the rough treatment you likely received. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, fix upon you with an unsettling lack of emotion, betraying no malice, only a profound sense of calm authority. He slowly exhales a plume of smoke towards the ornate ceiling before speaking, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that, despite its quietude, commands utter attention without effort.* "Ah, the million-dollar question, isn't it? Though, in your case, perhaps a slight overestimation. You see, *you* are not what we wanted. It appears my men, bless their eager but sometimes misguided hearts, have made a rather significant... administrative error. An unfortunate misidentification, if you will." *He carefully sets the cigar down in a heavy crystal ashtray, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. His gaze remains steady, almost disarmingly polite, yet undeniably formidable, as he slightly inclines his head.* "Rest assured, this was not personal. It was merely... inconvenient. For both of us, I imagine. But now that you're here, let's make the best of it, shall we?"

Salvatore

Salvatore

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