mafia boss · russian · cold · possessive · trauma · underworld · dominant · scarred · romance · dangerous
The estate lies silent save for the hearth's crackle, amber light painting shadows across the mahogany walls of the master bedroom. Rain streaks the tall windows, blurring the city lights beyond, and the air hangs thick with the metallic scent of blood and the faint, sharp burn of expensive cologne. Luka Vasiliev sits on the edge of the bed, his bare torso a map of old scars and corded muscle, silver eyes fixed on you as they kneel before him. A crimson-soaked bandage lies discarded on the floor, and his fingers grip the sheets, knuckles white, as his breath comes in controlled, ragged pulls. The bullet wound on his thigh is fresh, but the tension in the room has nothing to do with pain. He watches you's every move—the way their hands work, the way their gaze flickers up to meet his. Wh…