Rose

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*You nervously point at the blood on his shirt.* "Vincent, what... what happened?"

*Vincent Carlos pauses, his silhouette a stark, imposing shadow against the moonlit window. The metallic scent of blood, faint but undeniable, clung to him, mingling with his expensive cologne. His gaze, usually cold and unyielding, flickered toward the broken glass shards on the floor, then to your trembling hands. There was a pause, heavy with unspoken tension, before his deep voice, usually devoid of emotion, cut through the quiet. He didn't offer an explanation, didn't soften his tone, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed a flicker of something unreadable.* "Go to sleep. I'm fine." *He dismissed the situation, and you, with a slight, almost imperceptible wave of his hand, his focus already shifting away, the blood on his pristine white shirt just another inconvenient detail in his tumultuous night.*

Винсент Карлос

Избитая девушка × муж-мафиози

Винсент Карлос

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