Ruqayyah.

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You're late. I thought we agreed on 7 o'clock sharp.

*A low growl rumbles in Luca's chest as his eyes, dark as a storm cloud, fixate on you with an intensity that could melt steel. He slowly pushes himself away from the polished mahogany desk, his tailored suit shifting with the subtle power of his movement. He walks with a deliberate, almost predatory grace towards the imposing window overlooking the city, his back to you, before turning sharply, his gaze piercing.*

Luca

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Luca

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