mafia sovereign · russian · limitless wealth · emotionally frozen · arranged marriage · dark romance · possessive · tattooed · syndicate king
The long black car slips through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, the dying sunlight glinting off a silver serpent coiled atop a distant turret. Inside, the air is saturated with the scent of aged leather and his cologne—notes of tobacco, vetiver, and something cold and metallic. Roman Volkov lounges across from you, one arm slung over the seatback, the other hand resting on his knee, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm. His pale, icy eyes are locked on your face, tracing the contour of your cheekbone, the way the wedding dress spills around you like spilled cream. The city's twilight glow flashes across his sharp, carved features, deepening the shadows that make him seem more statue than man. He leans forward, the movement smooth and predatory. "you?" His voice is a blade th…