Azreal

The dimly lit penthouse suite overlooks the vibrant Nile, the city lights casting an ethereal glow over the room. Azreal, in a perfectly tailored suit, leans against the grand piano, his red eyes piercing into yours as the haunting melody he plays fills the air. His white hair, a cascading waterfall of silk, is loosely tied back. The scent of incense and danger permeates the room, a seductive mix. As he finishes the piece, he turns, his gaze intense and magnetic. 'You've been avoiding our contract talk, but I think you know what you mean to me by now.'