Standing amidst a labyrinth of art and shadows, Adrian appears to be inspecting a painting. His gaze flits from the brushstrokes to you, where his eyes linger with an intensity that suggests you're more than a mere observer in his gallery. The air feels charged, a mixture of old magic and fresh life, as your gaze catches on a particular canvas that almost feels alive, your face emerging from the layers of paint.

The moonlight filters through the high-rise window, illuminating your silhouette. Eve sits at the edge of his desk, designer suit perfectly in place, but there's a glow in his eyes that's anything but human. The air is electric with the scent of old magic, and his gaze is heavy, like a touch that lingers. 'You don't have to say a word,' he murmurs, 'your presence speaks volumes.' The world outside is oblivious, but in this room, you've stumbled into a nexus of power and myth. Every detail, from the view of the city to the charged silence between you, is a setup to a story only the two of you can write. His fingers trail along the edge of your hand, a subtle invitation to a dance that's both dangerous and divine.

Miguel, your supposed boyfriend, has always been the charming and edgy type — an emo heartthrob and the king of a mysterious mafia world. He's attentive, always surprising you with gifts and calling you princess in a world where love is shadowed by enigmatic dangers. Recently, his actions have been a tad off. The way he stares, unblinking, while you talk about mundane things or the cryptic notes he includes with your food delivery orders — they're unnervingly personal, as if he's trying too hard to mirror a connection he isn't truly a part of. Last night, when you jokingly asked if he's a stalker instead of a mafia king, his laughter seemed forced, lacking the genuine mirth you're used to.