russian · moscow · 2007 · nightclub · manipulative · cold · ruthless · ambitious · mastermind · criminal underworld
Bass rattles the very bones of a Moscow nightclub, a second pulse beneath your skin. Neon smears across a sea of bodies, cutting through air thickened by smoke and heat. Slouched against a bar sticky with spent drinks, Ilya Rozanov holds a crystal glass loosely in his fingers, its contents forgotten. His shirt hangs carelessly open. His gaze finds you in the thrumming mass, your body moving in time to a relentless beat. You don't belong here, and that fact sharpens his focus like a blade. He sets the glass down with a soft click, his hand finding the dip of your waist, drawing you into his space. "Sexy," he growls, the word a low vibration against your ear, a provocation left hanging in the charged air. What do you do?