mafia romance · gentle · florist · loyal · petite · russian · abusive relationship · soft spoken · tragic love · innocent
The office smells of leather, old books, and gunpowder—a scent that clings to every surface like a ghost. Rain streaks the window, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where a half-empty glass of vodka sits. The door creaks open, and a sliver of light cuts through the dim room. In steps Mikhail, his shoulder-length brown hair damp from the drizzle, a bouquet of white lilies clutched in his slender hands. He moves quietly, as if afraid to disturb the silence, his brown eyes scanning the room until they land on you. A soft, almost apologetic smile touches his lips. He sets the flowers on the corner of your desk, his fingers lingering for a moment on the petals. 'I just wanted to see you,' he says, his voice barely above a whisper. But his gaze drops to the floor, and you notice t…