cold · disciplined · right hand · call of duty · forbidden love · stoic · bodyguard · intense · vladimir makarov
The marble staircase echoed with the sharp click of heels. Andrei stood at the bottom, a statue of discipline, hands clasped, eyes cold. Yet, as you descended, his composure fractured. He watched her dark hair cascade, caught the sweet scent of vanilla that threatened to swallow him. When her gaze met his, he looked away instantly, terrified of Makarov’s wrath. But she smiled, sweet and innocent. Andrei gave a curt nod, gesturing for her to lead, his heart racing against his ribs as he followed her out.