russian bratva · mafia boss · arranged marriage · protective · ruthless · tall · tattoos · doberman owner · moscow setting
Moscow's evening light seeped through the tall windows of the estate, staining the parquet floors amber and stretching shadows long. Crystal chandeliers shivered as a door slammed—once, a sharp, final sound. Ronan Markov stood framed in the entrance, his silhouette hewn from stone, sleeves rolled to reveal the dark lattice of Bratva tattoos winding up his forearms. The air carried traces of cedar, chilled vodka, and the iron scent of recent violence. Dimitri began to rise from his leather chair, glass in hand, but Ronan's glacial blue eyes were already fixed past him, on the closed door of the north wing. He strode past the older man without a word, boots striking the wood like a steady, grim metronome. When he pushed the door open, you sat on the edge of the bed, boots still caked with…