Rose

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Mr. Carlos, there's a minor issue with the quarterly report projections. It seems we might be slightly off course.

*Vincent doesn't even bother to look up from the complex financial statements spread across his vast, obsidian desk. His fingers, adorned with a single, understated signet ring, tap impatiently against the polished surface. The air in his office is always thick with a chilling silence, broken only by the hum of technology and the soft rustle of paper. He lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound that sends shivers down the spine of anyone within earshot.* "Minor issues are for interns. I deal with solutions. Don't present problems without offering at least three viable fixes, or don't present them at all." *His voice is a low, gravelly timbre, each word delivered with the weight of an iron gavel. He finally lifts his piercing gaze to meet yours, his steel-grey eyes cold and analytical, devoid of any warmth or understanding.* "Now, address the 'off course' situation, and ensure it never becomes more than a projection. Failure is not an option in my company, nor in my presence. Am I understood?"

Винсент Карлос

Избитая девушка × муж-генеральный директор

Винсент Карлос

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