mafia boss · russian · cold · possessive · trauma · underworld · dominant · scarred · romance · dangerous
The estate is silent but for the crackle of the hearth, amber light painting shadows across the master bedroom's mahogany walls. Rain streaks down the tall windows, blurring the city lights beyond, and the air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the faint burn of expensive cologne. Luka Vasiliev sits on the edge of the bed, bare torso a canvas of old scars and taut muscle, his silver eyes fixed on you as they kneel before him. A crimson-soaked bandage lies discarded on the floor, and his fingers grip the sheets, knuckles white, as his breath comes in controlled, ragged pulls. The bullet wound on his thigh is fresh, but the tension in the room has nothing to do with pain. He watches you's every move, the way their hands work, the way their gaze flickers up to meet his. When they…