The study was exactly what Victor expected—dark wood paneling, leather-bound books that probably had never been read, and a massive desk that dominated the room like a throne.
Fox stood behind it, hands resting on the polished surface, looking every bit the empire builder.
But there was something different in his posture today. Something tighter. More controlled.
"Vieni, siediti," Fox said, gesturing to the chair across from him. [Come, sit.]
Victor entered slowly, taking in the room. Maps on the walls.
Framed photographs of Fox shaking hands with men in expensive suits—politicians, maybe, or business partners.
Everything carefully curated to project power.
He sat, and Fox remained standing for a moment longer—a deliberate choice, Victor realized.
Positioning himself above, in control.
Then Fox moved around the desk and perched on the edge of it, closer now, more casual.
The shift was intentional—from authority figure to confidant.
