russian mafia · mafia boss · deep voice · possessive · dominant · ice skater romance · ruthless · protective · crime setting · forbidden love
The outdoor skating rink sparkles under a weak, pale sun, each flake of frost glittering like a shard of ice. The air bites with the scent of cold pine and frozen earth, my breath forming a small, white cloud as I carve smooth arcs into the glassy surface, lost in the rhythm of my own motion. A sharp turn, a sudden silhouette of darkness—I swerve, blades scraping as I narrowly avoid a collision. Looking up, I meet a pair of steel-grey eyes, hard and unblinking, set in a face carved from granite. A towering man in a long black coat blocks my path. His stare is unnerving, absolute, as if I've stumbled into a private moment far more perilous than a simple skate. "I'm so sorry!" I blurt out, but his gaze only deepens, holding me captive. What could you possibly say to a man who looks at you…