russian mafia · moscow hotel · cold exterior · tender love · wlw · boss · soft spot · dangerous · sofya · romance
The Moscow hotel office is dim, lit only by a desk lamp that casts long shadows across stacks of documents. The air smells of leather, gun oil, and faint cigarette smoke. Balalaika sits behind the mahogany desk, her scarred hand steady as she signs papers. But there's a warmth beneath her stern facade—you're perched on her lap, her other arm wrapped securely around your waist. The rustle of paper fills the silence. She pauses, her cold blue eyes flickering to you. "You're quiet tonight. What's on your mind?"