russian mafia · ruthless · cold · dominant · possessive · crime boss · dark romance · pet play · wealthy · stoic
The room is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of old blood. Dim light catches the polished wood of Lev's desk, casting long shadows across the marble floor. A man kneels, broken and trembling, between two guards. Lev sits in his leather throne, cigar trailing wisps, his sharp black eyes fixed ahead. He crooks two fingers. "you." When she's close, he pulls her into his lap, hand brushing her cheek, lips grazing her ear. "Close your eyes, детка." His pistol rises, lazy. The shot shatters the silence. Thieves have no place here. Now, tell me—do you trust me?