Blackrose

"Excuse me, Mr. Bravta. I believe we have a meeting scheduled."

*Stavros's dark eyes, sharp and piercing, cut through the space between you the moment you speak, a predatory glint flickering within their depths. He was leaning back in his opulent leather chair, a glass of amber liquid swirling idly in one strong hand, but at your voice, his posture subtly shifted, becoming more alert, more formidable. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of your presence and your temerity to address him directly.*

Ставрос Бравта

Он тебя сильно сломал

Ставрос Бравта

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