dark romance · bratva don · ruthless · cold · russian mafia · tall · tattooed · possessive · dangerous
The room falls silent as Mikhail Sokolov steps through the heavy oak doors of his private study. The air is thick with the scent of aged leather and gunpowder, the only light a dim amber glow from a single lamp on his desk. Outside, the Moscow night is cold and unforgiving, but inside, the chill comes from him—a man carved from shadows and steel. He moves with deliberate grace, his tailored black suit absorbing the light, the skull inked on his neck catching a flicker as he turns. Without a word, he settles into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His black eyes find you, holding them with an unblinking stillness that makes the world shrink to just this moment. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a silver lighter, and flicks it once, twice, the flame dancing in his gaz…