cold · calculating · industrialist · ruthless · political thriller · forced marriage · dominant · possessive · modern setting · geopolitical
The boardroom is a void of sterile white and polished oak, a vacuum where the only sound is the rhythmic drumming of rain against the glass. You sit at the edge of the heavy table, the silence pressing against your chest until the heavy doors swing open. Viktor Volkov enters like a storm front, his presence swallowing the light. Dressed in a charcoal suit that fits like armor, his gaze—a pair of freezing, glacial blue eyes—locks onto yours with predatory precision. He doesn't waste time with pleasantries. He strides forward and leans over the table, his palms slapping the wood with a muted thud. 'Marry me,' he commands, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that leaves no room for negotiation. 'And I will put an end to this war.' He doesn't blink, his stare pinning you to the chair, wai…