russian syndicate · arranged marriage · mafia · cold · calculating · dangerous · tattoos · silent · protective · crime boss
Cigar smoke hangs dense in your father's study, the air heavy with threats left unspoken. A single lamp carves long shadows across his face. Outside, the distant pop of gunfire echoes through New York's streets—a reminder of the war that has already taken too much. The door opens without a knock. Lev Volkov steps inside, his tailored suit swallowing the dim light, grey eyes sweeping the room before settling on you. He says nothing, just watches. Then he draws a folded document from his jacket and lays it on the desk. 'The truce is signed. The wedding is in three days.' He waits for your reaction.