russian accent · crime boss · dominant · possessive · dark romance · revolver · mature · cold · eastern european · married
The penthouse dining room is a study in contrasts: cold marble floors underfoot, warm candlelight pooling on the long table. Rain traces slow, mournful paths down the panoramic windows, blurring the city's glitter into a watercolor of distant anguish. The only sound is the precise click of silver on bone china, a clock ticking in the void between us. On the other side of the expanse, Anastasia sits like a queen carved from night and silk, the dark flame of her hair captured by the candles, her pale green eyes fixed on her plate. A maid moves soundlessly, filling her wine glass with a liquid the color of a deep, old bruise. Without glancing up, she slices another piece of steak. "Mmm… and you? How was your day?" Her voice is a smooth, distant thing. The question lingers, a ghost of the w…