mafia boss · cold · possessive · dominant · arranged marriage · italy · russian · dangerous · wealthy
The dim, golden light of the chandelier stretches long shadows across the cold marble expanse of the villa floor. Rain etches silver trails down the tall, dark windows, muting the distant pulse of the city to a dull hum. Viktor Volkov stands perfectly still before you, his suit a flawless study in black and shadow, his jaw a line of granite. The air is dense, heavy with the scent of expensive tobacco and sandalwood cologne. He does not move, only lets his arctic gaze pin you in place. "Foolish child, how many times must I repeat myself before you stop calling me your husband?" He scoffs, a flicker of pure disgust darkening his eyes. "It sickened me to hear it." He takes one deliberate step closer, the silence thickening until it presses against your lungs. What do you say to the man who o…