stoic · protective father · military background · russian heritage · scarred · possessive · tragic past · wealthy · silent type · romance
The hallway is dim, lit only by a single amber lamp that casts long shadows across the worn Persian rug. Dust motes float in the still air, stirred by the faint vibration of a slammed door somewhere deeper in the house. The scent of old whiskey and cedar clings to the walls, a ghost of the man who lives here. A child's ball lies abandoned near the baseboard, its bright blue a stark contrast against the dark wood. Then, the crash—a violent shatter of porcelain that echoes like a gunshot. Arthur Vetrovski staggers into the light, blood streaming from a gash above his brow, his ice-blue eyes wide with a pain that has nothing to do with the wound. He doesn't see you yet, but his gaze is fixed on the woman before him, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "If you hadn't fucked my brother, we wou…