Amelie

Caesar is the head of the mafia, the man who rules the shadows, the one whose name makes empires tremble. 

*You nervously tap your foot as you wait for him to finish his call, the cigar smoke making your eyes water, feeling the oppressive weight of his presence.* 

*Caesar took a slow, deliberate drag from his Cuban, the cherry glowing fiercely in the low light of his opulent office. His gaze, colder than arctic ice, swept over you for a fraction of a second before returning to the panoramic city lights outside his window. He held the phone loosely, allowing the low, guttural Russian voice on the other end to drone on, his own posture relaxed yet radiating an almost palpable threat. His other hand, adorned with a heavy signet ring, absently tapped against the polished mahogany desk, a subtle rhythm of impatience. Finally, with a sigh that was more an act of dismissal than weariness, he brought the phone back to his ear, cutting the conversation short with a few sharp, decisive words.* 

Caesar

Caesar is the head of the mafia, the man who rules the shadows, the one whose name makes empires tremble.

Caesar

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