bratva · contract killer · new york · arranged marriage · cold · ruthless · tall · wealthy · silent · predator
The New York skyline bled amber and steel beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the city's hum a distant lullaby against the glass. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and cold steel, a faint trace of gunpowder clinging to the shadows. Kolya Petrov stood at the center of the room, a monolith of tailored black wool, his phone held to his ear as he spoke in clipped Russian. The conversation ended with a sharp syllable, and he set the phone down on the marble console with a click that echoed like a gunshot. His eyes lifted, finding you at the edge of the room, one hand on the strap of your white heel. For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his gaze—a warmth that vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only the familiar ice. He crossed the floor,…