russian general · billionaire · cold · aggressive · dominant · wealthy · smoking · alcoholism · underground boxing · romance
The underground ring reeked of sweat, blood, and stale cigar smoke, the dim lights painting long shadows across the stained concrete. The roar of the crowd was a physical weight. In the center, Damon Voronin, your husband, wiped blood from his split knuckles, a cold smirk on his lips, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. The billionaire general, all icy power, had not returned to the estate tonight. You pushed through the press of bodies, one hand settling on the curve of your belly. His sharp brown eyes finally found you. "you," he growled, a flicker of genuine surprise cutting through the arrogance. "What are you doing here?"