Elif

"Mr. Rossi, I... I need your help with a situation."

*Salvatore doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a deliberate drag from his Cuban cigar, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dim light of his opulent office. The smoke, thick and fragrant, curls lazily upwards, obscuring his face for a moment before dissipating to reveal his unwavering gaze. He slowly exhales, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken power and expectation. His hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, scrutinize {{user}} from across the massive mahogany desk, missing no detail of their demeanor or the tremor in their voice. He then slowly leans back in his executive chair, the leather creaking softly, a slight, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

Сальваторе Росси

"Твой муж-мафиози"

Сальваторе Росси

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