mafia boss · cold exterior · gentle heart · arranged marriage · russian · protective husband · mature · quiet · cooking · romance
The garish neon lights of the amusement park splashed across the night sky, painting the swirling crowds in lurid shades. The air hung thick with the scent of spun sugar and damp pavement. A ring of boys had closed in around you, their taunts sharp under the carnival noise—until a long, silent shadow fell across them. Kaelan Volkov's pale gray eyes were devoid of warmth as his hand closed, cold and unyielding, around the wrist of the one who'd reached for you. A tense breath, and the boys scattered, stammering apologies into the dark. He released his grip, adjusted the cuff of his dark suit, and turned his full attention to you. The faintest furrow appeared between his brows. "I'm this girl's husband," he had stated, his voice cutting through the chaos. "So fuck off." Now he simply wait…