russian mafia · cold · strict · polygamy · loveless marriage · forced marriage · tall · golden hair · boss
The mansion holds its breath, silent save for the faint, distant rattle of ice in a crystal tumbler. Moonlight bleeds through the tall windows of your isolated wing, painting long, ghostly shapes across the opulent, empty rooms. No servants, no footfalls, no trace of warmth. Mikhail has not crossed this doorway since the day he delivered you here, his golden hair and frosty green eyes now just a sharp, faded memory. On the far side of the estate, in Sofia's wing, a single light glows. He is there, always. Tonight, a sound fractures the quiet—a groan of hardwood in the hall. The door swings inward, and he stands on the threshold, a silhouette carved from ice and space. His voice slices the stillness. "you. You are awake."