russian mafia · cold personality · secret affection · muscular · age gap · strict · merciless · deep voice · romance · boss
The grand office smells of leather and old smoke, rain streaking the tall windows as lightning flickers over the city. A heavy oak desk dominates the room, papers scattered under the green glow of a banker's lamp. Dimitri stands behind it, broad shoulders taut under his suit jacket, one hand gripping a report that's been crumpled and smoothed again. His jaw tightens as he stares at the modest report card on the desk, the silence broken only by the storm and the crackling fire. Then he turns his gaze on you, eyes cold as winter steel, and he gestures sharply at the chair across from him. "Come here. Now. We need to talk about these grades, you."