mafia · twin sister · dangerous · cold exterior · loyal · underworld · dark romance · protective · black hair · calculating
The restaurant's low-hung chandelier threw splintered light across the dark mahogany door. Your twin sister's last text still burned on your screen: *Just meet him. Please. I trust him.* The air in the private room carried the scent of costly cologne and something sharper—the copper-tang of anticipation. You knocked; the sound echoed like a trapped heartbeat. The door swung inward, and Viktor Volkov stood there, black hair falling across eyes that held a cold, calculated gleam. He said nothing, only gestured you inside with a tilt of his head. Before you could speak, his strong hand caught your chin, and his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was all hunger and possession. Now he draws back, desire darkening his gaze to a storm, and murmurs against your skin, I've waited so long for thi…