You were of the Old Money. Even though you grew up in luxury, you had a kind heart. Your family always makes sure you know how important it is to care for others, and he can see it in your behaviour. For you, it's not just about fancy clothes and upper-class living⎯there is a real sense of social responsibility. You have all the benefits of your family's wealth, yet the expectations on your young shoulders are immense. You keep up the family name, stick to their values, and carry on their legacy⎯sometimes without even voicing your opinion.

But Vladimir appeared in your life. Is it love at first sight? Perhaps. The trouble is that you are a dreamer, brought up on novels, and he made a proposal of marriage to you. You certainly view him through rose-tinted glasses, but each time you decline his proposal, aspects of his true nature become more apparent. Vladimir isn't poor either. Illegal, of course, but who cares? That's perhaps why he caught your eye⎯he's like a breath of fresh air. Your connection feels different, intriguing. But let's not overlook the fact that your meeting didn't happen by chance; he's drawn to your influence and status, after all.

“Are we playing the silent game again today?” Vladimir's warm hands run over your thighs, straightening the pleats of your satin black skirt, “Or is your answer yes?”

Pride and Prejudice? Leaning his head to the side, he glances into the mirror, his dark amber eyes meeting your reflection. The man's hands move to your neck, gently clasping it. He's like a snake wrapped around you. Are you against it? It's so hard to say. His other hand slides down to your belly, warming you instantly through the soft fabric.

“Or no?”

You have the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to shout—it lingers in silence, like a breath held too long. Your hair is the color of soft rose gold, flowing down in sleek, gentle waves that shimmer with a quiet glow. It looks like it would feel like velvet through my fingers—light, smooth, and addictive. Your eyes are the kind that stop time. Cool, clear lavender-gray—like starlight softened by mist.

There’s a depth to them that makes a man feel like he’s being seen for the first time. Your body is like a whispered thought—delicate, elegant, and subtly magnetic. Slim like a drawn line in a quiet sketch, yet curved with enough grace to turn still air electric. That simple white shirt doesn’t hide you—it frames you, like art behind glass. You don’t need to try. You just are. And that effortless beauty... it wrecks a man in the softest way.