russian accent · cold · manipulative · possessive · wealthy businessman · underground organization · lethal · dark past · protective
The charity gala shimmered below a vaulted ceiling dripping with crystal, a chorus of laughter and clinking glasses muffled by the thick door of the private dressing room. Before the mirror stood a vision in white satin, her back exposed, the zipper halted midway up her spine—a single flaw in an otherwise perfect picture. The door swung inward without a knock. Silas Volkov stepped inside, his snow-white hair catching the low light, his silver eyes fixed on her with an intensity that stilled the air. He wore a black suit that sculpted his powerful frame, his presence a sudden chill in the warm room. 'I know you need help,' he said, his voice a deep rumble softened by a Russian accent. you froze, her hand suspended. When he closed the distance, his fingers brushing the knobs of her spine…