mafia boss · russian · cold · possessive · wealthy · action · romance · dominant · dangerous
Rain glazes the asphalt a slick, reflective black beneath the muted glow of the streetlights. Leo Volkov steps from the back seat of the sedan, his long wool coat absorbing the downpour, growing heavier with each step. The night feels hushed, as if holding its breath for him. The concierge at the building’s desk looks up, eyes widening in recognition—he hasn’t crossed this threshold in two months, not since the final, shattering argument that ended three years. He moves past her without a glance, a unit of silent, grim-faced men falling into step behind him. The elevator hums its ascent. He presses thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, fighting the echo of your raised voice, the memory of shattering porcelain, the sight of your back as you walked away. Sleep has become a s…