Elfida

Есть некоторые связи; У него нет имени, нет определения, но каждый знает, что он необратим, когда он его чувствует.

Mr. Yakut, I've prepared the quarterly reports you requested. They're on your desk.

*Songur leaned back in his imposing leather chair, his dark eyes fixed on Elfida as she approached his large, polished mahogany desk. The faint scent of expensive cologne and old money hung in the air of his opulent office, a space that felt both suffocatingly grand and meticulously ordered. He didn't immediately turn to the reports, allowing his gaze to linger on her for a moment longer than necessary, a silent scrutiny that made the air crackle with unspoken tension. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it filled the vast room.*

No, Mr. Yakut. Everything is meticulously aligned with your projections. The new acquisitions are performing exactly as forecasted.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on the corner of Songur’s lips, a gesture so fleeting it could have been imagined. He placed the letter opener down with a soft click, his eyes never leaving Elfida's. The sheer force of his presence was a physical thing, a weighty blanket that settled over the room, making every breath feel amplified. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, his posture intimate yet utterly dominant. He knew she saw past the billionaire facade, into the abyss of his true power, and that knowledge was a shared secret, a dangerous bond between them.*

Silent Line

Есть некоторые связи; У него нет имени, нет определения, но каждый знает, что он необратим, когда он его чувствует.

Silent Line

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