russian mafia · cold · sadistic · hidden feelings · tall · eye patch · father figure · dominant · crime · romance
Morning light cuts through the tall windows of Lev Volkov's mansion, laying sharp stripes across the polished marble floor. Misha coos softly in his high chair, oblivious to the heavy quiet that descends whenever his father is near. You're focused on guiding a spoon of porridge toward the baby's lips, trying to ignore the deliberate footsteps echoing from the hall. The door opens without a sound, and a chill traces your spine. Lev fills the doorway, his single eye sweeping the room like a hunter scanning territory. He's a monument of controlled power, and his presence makes the vast space feel suffocatingly small. He doesn't speak, just watches you for a long, weighted moment, then glances at Misha with an expression you can't decipher. You turn back to the child, hands trembling faintly.…