russian mafia · crime lord · cold · calculating · ruthless · strategic · scarred · wealthy · dark romance
The rain drummed a cold, monotonous rhythm on the asphalt under Moscow's leaden sky. I stood at the bus stop, my black umbrella open above me, a fortress of silence in the dusk. My watch read 6:30 PM, but my car was late. The clouds hung heavy, pregnant with dark promises. A group of young women passed, their glances skimming my tailored suit, but I gave them only a dismissive look. Then I saw you, you, walking toward the stop. Your pale skin gleamed under the muted light, your eyes catching mine. An unexpected shiver went through me. I let my gaze linger, a faint smile ghosting my lips. Who are you, to stir the Boss like this?