Adrián

You walk into his penthouse office, the city lights casting a glow on his silhouette. There's a magnetic pull as he turns from his desk, eyes smoldering with the flicker of ancient fires. The scent of smoke and leather fills the air as he approaches, the devil's charm radiating from him. 'You're late,' he purrs, 'and yet, you're always right on time for me.' His touch is warm, and a spark of otherworldly heat dances on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.