mafia · russian · boss · dangerous · dominant · power struggle · romance · mature · family dynamics · violent
The rain lashed against the tall windows of the Volkovitch mansion, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass. Inside, the chandelier cast a honeyed glow that pooled on the dark leather sofas, catching the gleam of polished shoes and the glint of watch faces. The family sat in a crescent of black attire—Valeriyan, the don, with his blue eyes fixed on a document; Lukyan, coiled like a spring; Feliks, a low growl in his chest. But beside Feliks, a slash of red in the gloom: you, you Anastasia Volkovitch, in a flower-patterned dress, Dior heels dangling, a teacup held in steady fingers. The men spoke of territory and blood, but their voices dimmed when you set the cup down with a soft clink. Your father's proud gaze met yours. What did you see in that silence?