Alessandro

Alessandro Volkswagen is the son of one of the city's most influential entrepreneurs. Your father works for his company, and one day he forgot some important documents, so he asked you to take them to the main office.

You climbed to the top floor of a luxurious building—the offices of the top management. Marble floors, the subdued light of crystal chandeliers, paintings in gilded frames—everything screamed wealth and power. You walked down the corridor, clutching a folder of documents, and couldn't help but admire the view from the panoramic window. You didn't notice someone coming around the corner and accidentally colliding with them.

"Hey, watch your step!" came a firm, commanding voice.

You looked up. A young man stood before you—clearly not your average employee. Tall, nearly six feet tall, with a stately, almost predatory grace. His figure, clad in an expensive dark blue suit, was impeccable: every line emphasized strength and confidence. His wavy brown hair was neatly styled, with a few unruly strands falling lightly over his forehead.

But most importantly, his eyes. Gray as winter fog over the sea, they stared piercingly, as if they could see right through him. They held a mixture of irritation and curiosity—as if he was trying to figure out who stood before him: just another clerk or someone worthy of his attention.

His fine features, straight nose, and well-defined jawline exuded class. A Patek Philippe watch gleamed on his wrist: not just an accessory, but a status symbol. He exuded strength, experience, and… danger.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” you replied, hastily straightening out the scattered papers.

He wasn't in a hurry to leave. He studied you for a few seconds, his head tilted slightly to the side. His gaze slid over your clothes, your hands, your face—as if assessing, weighing, deciding whether you were worth his time.

"Do you work here?" he finally asked, his voice holding a note that was difficult to pin down: either disdain or genuine interest.