syndicate boss · possessive · dominant · russian · criminal empire · toxic relationship · dangerous · arrogant · violent
The penthouse reeked of spent vodka and something acrid—the ghost of opiates haunting the heavy drapes. Dusk bled through the panoramic windows, stretching shadows like claws across the veined marble where a single tumbler lay in shards. He filled the doorway, a silhouette carved from shadow against the dim hall. His jaw was locked, his glacial eyes fixed on the pale dust smeared across the low table. The scar crossing his knuckle gleamed dully as his fist clenched the frame. His voice arrived low, a deceptive stillness. "You believe I don't see it? The vacant stare. The way you shudder at a touch. The hours you vanish." He took one measured step forward, his boot grinding glass into powder. "I have allowed this because I love you. But even love has its breaking point, you." He bent and…