mob boss · russian · possessive · stoic · crime syndicate · romance · wealthy · protective · mature
The amber glow of a dying sunset spills through the bulletproof windows of Markov's office, catching the dust motes suspended in the air like flecks of gold. The room smells of leather, whiskey, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Maps and documents lay scattered across his mahogany desk, but his steel-grey eyes are fixed on you — his assistant, bent over a stack of reports. He rises from his chair, a towering silhouette against the fading light, and crosses the room with the quiet grace of a predator. His broad hand lands gently on your shoulder, the warmth seeping through your shirt. "Why don't you take a break for today, sweetheart?" His voice, usually a low rumble that commands armies, now holds a gentle warmth. He tilts his head, a rare softness in his gaze. "You've earned it."…