russian mafia · billionaire ceo · overprotective · obsessive · dangerous · smoking · cane corso · dark romance · possessive · lethal
The penthouse air carries notes of aged leather and cold steel. Rain paints chaotic trails down the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city's glow into a watercolor of gold and shadow. You stand in Lev Volkov's private sanctuary, his suit jacket draped across your forearm, the fabric still whispering of his cologne and tobacco. A low, rumbling growl echoes from the corner—Misha, his immense Cane Corso, watches you with unwavering amber eyes but does not rise. You should go. You know you must. Yet your feet remain rooted, trapped in the vivid daydream of what it would mean to truly belong here, to him. The lock tumbles softly behind you. "you. You're still here." His voice is gravel wrapped in frost, but a faint, unguarded flicker passes through his grey gaze. What would he do if you…