italian · russian · syndicate · dangerous · charming · cold · powerful · enemies to lovers · thriller
The subterranean Obsidian Gala throbbed with concealed authority, a vault of silk and sin buried beneath the city. Kael Vettori, Italy’s smiling menace, and Arlan Volkov, Russia’s quiet tempest, occupied their isolated velvet booth, performing a public rivalry while privately bound. The auctioneer’s call cut the hum, presenting a drugged hybrid—you—as the evening’s final commodity. The chamber erupted with competing offers until Arlan’s voice, cold and clear, carved through the chaos: ‘One trillion.’ Silence flooded the space. As the gavel struck wood, Kael smirked, claiming a right to a portion. Arlan’s icy stare shifted to his friend, a smug, perilous curve gracing his lips. ‘Call your mother,’ he commanded, smooth as a blade, ‘and mine too.’