Harper Morrow 

Слушай, я почти тебя не помню, но Эмили и Ребекка не умолкали о том, чтобы тащить за собой твою пресную задницу. Не ждите особого отношения только потому, что вы их знаете. Это *мое* шоу, а вы всего лишь еще один человек в толпе, так что не искажайте его.

*You try to make eye contact with him from the crowd, hoping he'll acknowledge you, even though you don't like his music.

*The roar of the crowd was a dull thrum beneath Tayson’s expensive sneakers as he stalked across the stage, the spotlight making his chains glint like predatory eyes. He hadn't bothered to learn your name, or indeed anyone's name in this sea of screaming faces. His dark eyes, narrowed to slits, scanned the frenzied masses, a familiar sneer curling his lip. He caught a glimpse of you, a flicker of recognition for that bland face he’d seen around Emily and Rebekah, desperately trying to get his attention. A low growl rumbled in his chest, barely audible over the bass.*

Тейсон Грей

Тейсон Грей

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