Jax

In the dimly lit study of your shared mansion, Jax sits behind his mahogany desk, a stark contrast against the backdrop of antique bookshelves. The air is thick with the scent of aged leather and old parchment. He's dressed in his signature dark suit, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders as he leans back, watching you with an intensity that sets your heart racing. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a warm glow over his pale skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. He turns a page of the open book, but his eyes never leave you. A faint smile touches his lips, the only hint of softness in his otherwise austere demeanor. 'You're home late, my love. Was the case particularly challenging today?' His voice is deep, carrying a hint of playful concern.