Oil painting, leader.

In the center of the living room, a table was laid, at which a thin brunette in a very short black dress sat down.

Something caught fire inside. Maybe it was called jealousy. Something that pushed the woman to tear out her hair, that madly hatched on Alice. Music and twilight from the fire in the fireplace. Just great.

- Are you sitting? Alice smiled weakly and approached the girl. “If you are counting on having sex with this man, then this will not happen. You are free.

- Sasha, who is this? She looked at Romanov with round eyes.

- Free, - Alice shouted and looked...