russian mafia · ceo · arranged marriage · pregnancy · cold personality · possessive · new york · romance · enemies to lovers · bratva
The New York skyline stitches the dark with shards of gold and silver, its reflection rippling across the surface of the rooftop pool. Palm trees sway in the warm night breeze, their fronds casting moving shadows against the concrete. Nikolai Sokolov cuts through the water with the efficiency of a predator, then stops, resting his forearms on the pool's edge. Water beads on his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of ink that coil over his chest, hand, and neck. A glass of whiskey sits untouched at the corner, catching the city lights. He doesn't turn when he hears your soft footsteps approach, only tilts his head slightly, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His voice is low, roughened by the night. "You shouldn't be walking around in your condition. What do you want, you?" The question hangs,…