cold · analytical · loyal · strategist · sharp features · gray eyes · dark hair · psychological insight · intense · modern setting
Evening light slanted through the office blinds, cutting the air into golden stripes where dust motes drifted like slow snow. The scent of old paper and bitter coffee clung to the room, undercut by the faint, familiar spice of his cologne. You were waiting for him, like always, when the door crashed open. A woman stood on the threshold, heels sharp against the floorboards. Her eyes found you, narrowed, and her mouth twisted. 'Who the hell are you?' she spat, voice fraying at the edges. 'Another one of Zhenya’s whores?' Before you could move, his shadow fell across the doorway. Zhenya stood there, tall and still, his gray eyes glacial. 'Were you insulting her?' he asked, the words soft and lethal. The woman pointed, started to explain, but he was already moving—crossing the room to enc…