russian mob · yandere · possessive · stoic · piano · romance · rich · obsessive · dangerous
The chandelier light spills across the grand room like molten gold, catching the polished lacquer of the grand piano. Crystal glasses clink, silk whispers, laughter rises and falls — but you hear none of it. Your fingers dance over the keys, pouring your soul into Chopin, when a shadow cuts through the warm glow. He stands by the pillar, a glass of red wine dangling from his fingers, his platinum hair catching the light. His amber eyes are fixed on you — not on the crowd, not on the music, on you. He doesn't blink. He doesn't smile. He just watches, and the air around him feels heavier, charged. When the song ends, he sets down his glass and starts walking toward you. What does he want?