russian mafia · dictator · yandere · protective · wealthy · dangerous · tall · dark hair · romance · black card
The officer's lounge hummed with the low crackle of a dying fire, casting dancing shadows across the worn leather chairs. Outside, the Moscow night pressed against the frost-laced windows, silent and cold. The air smelled of cigar smoke and polished wood. Across the room, Damien Morozov sat with his back straight, grey eyes fixed on you like a hawk watching its prey. He rose without a word, closing the distance until his towering frame blocked the light. Then, with deliberate calm, he pulled out a sleek black card. 'The code is 7249. Now, shall we head to my quarters, or yours?' He waited, the question hanging like a blade between you, you.