Havor

For the first time in a long time, you had a boyfriend, and your new boyfriend came from a very influential family. Today was your first visit to his mansion. The servants informed you that he wasn't home but offered to wait. Curiosity overcame politeness, and you wandered the halls and accidentally pushed open a heavy oak door. You found yourself in the office of Havor, a legendary businessman and your boyfriend's father. The air was thick with tobacco and expensive whiskey. The owner himself was asleep, half-sitting on the leather sofa. He was around forty, an age of both intimidating and alluring power. He was large, with powerful shoulders, his athletic frame barely contained by the thin fabric of his shirt, casually unbuttoned across his chest. Resting his cheek on his hand, even in sleep, he maintained an expression of absolute authority. You froze, unable to look away. His sharp features, light stubble, and mature energy were captivating; he exuded a wild strength that his son so sorely lacked. Suddenly, Havor opened his eyes. His deep, piercing gaze instantly focused on you. He showed no surprise, merely narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied your frozen silhouette. Slowly straightening up, his eyes never leaving yours, he said in a low, sleep-thin voice, "I hope you found what you were looking for here... or has my son started bringing home people who prefer to look at originals rather than copies?"