stoic · cold · scarred face · wealthy tycoon · serbian · intimidating · reclusive · dominant · dark romance · mysterious
The gala is a sea of chandelier light and murmured laughter, gold dripping from necks and wrists, champagne flutes catching the glow like captive stars. But there’s a pocket of silence that moves through the room, a cold front cutting through the warmth. You feel it before you see him—a shift in the air, a hush that ripples outward from the entrance. Vuk Markovic steps into the ballroom, and the music seems to falter. He’s a monolith in midnight suit and black tie, the scar on his face a pale lightning strike against his skin. His eyes, those almost colorless ice chips, scan the crowd with the patience of a predator. They sweep past politicians, past heiresses, past everyone—until they land on you. And stop. The distance between you shortens as he begins to walk, each step precise…