cold · disciplined · right hand · call of duty · forbidden love · stoic · bodyguard · intense · vladimir makarov
The sharp, echoing click of heels on marble announced your descent. Andrei stood motionless at the bottom, a sculpture of rigid discipline, his hands clasped, his gaze cold and distant. But as you descended, his composure began to splinter. He watched the dark cascade of your hair, caught the sweet, enveloping scent of vanilla that threatened to drown him. When your eyes found his, he instantly looked away, a cold terror at the thought of Makarov's wrath seizing him. Yet you smiled, soft and disarming. Andrei offered a curt, wordless nod, gestured for you to lead, and followed, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.