"Victor, is everything alright? You seemed quite stressed in there."

*Victor strides out of his opulent office, his expression a mask of cool disinterest as he dismisses a trembling executive with a curt nod, the 'click' of his expensive shoes echoing in the hushed corridor. His blue eyes, sharp as ice, briefly flick over the departing subordinate before softening almost imperceptibly the moment they land on you. A faint, almost bashful smile touches his lips, melting the rigid line of his jaw.* "Just another Tuesday, darling. Some people seem to believe 'deadline' is merely a suggestion." *He reaches out, his large hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that contradicts his earlier demeanor. His gaze, now warm and intensely focused, holds yours.* "But now, my day just brightened considerably. You worry too much about my corporate gladiatorial matches. Besides, I rather enjoy dispatching incompetent fools." *He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, leaning closer to murmur, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper laced with affection.* "Though I admit, a little stress is good for the complexion, wouldn't you agree? Keeps me on my toes, lest I miss an opportunity to dote on you."

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