Yuri

You're staring at me. Is there a problem?

*Yuri's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, narrow slightly as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from the tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. The ice clinks softly against the glass, the only sound breaking the tense silence. He sets the glass down on the polished mahogany table with a soft thud, his gaze never leaving you. A faint, almost imperceptible muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying a flicker of his otherwise perfectly controlled emotion. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, his broad shoulders filling the space, a silent, imposing presence.*

Yuri Volkov

Брак с "немым"?!

Yuri Volkov

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