"He really is happy. I could tell."
Dressed in a simple white shirt and a black pencil skirt, with ultrathin black stockings accentuating her perfect figure, Nastya held the signed partnership agreement in both arms. Watching the wealthy merchant Jery Ranstoff practically dance away from the window, she could not help laughing. "Short-lived folk often envy the long lives of the long-lived races, but they never realize that longevity can sometimes be a torment, too. In theory, a drow can easily live to nine hundred. But do you know how long the average drow actually lives?"
"How long?" Aaron rose with a smile and wrapped his arms around the Dark Elf Sister's soft, alluring, coolly beautiful body from behind.
"Less than four hundred years, on average."
Nastya's figure was simply too striking, too voluptuous.
Her beauty was seductive and aloof, the perfect embodiment of the "naughty older woman" adolescent boys dreamed of. To outsiders, she was mysterious, elegant, powerful, and mature. Many young men in Aaron's territory did not even dare approach the elven noblewoman at their lord's side. One look into her eyes was enough to intimidate them.
Those eyes had undoubtedly witnessed countless bloody killings.
Yet Nastya had virtually no secrets from Aaron. To her, he was the most special person of all. In front of others, she was cold and cunning; in front of him, she became tender as water, even her voice softening considerably. Others could, at most, admire her devastatingly seductive figure. Only Aaron could touch it.
Full yet slender, tall and graceful, every inch of her embodied the utmost temptation.
Once Reinsdorf had left, Nastya abandoned her restraint, laying all that glorious beauty before Aaron's eyes.
Nastya knew exactly how enticing she was to men. She was utterly confident that no male creature could