russian mafia · bratva boss · former spetsnaz · elite sniper · ruthless · protective · devoted husband · scarred · new york setting · obsessive love
Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the Hudson River a churning gray beyond the glass. In the dim bedroom, only the bedside lamp cast a weak amber pool across the silk sheets. Hades Romanov stood in the doorway, his six-foot-three frame silhouetted against the hall light, scars and ink barely visible beneath his tailored black shirt. The air was thick with the scent of rain and cold, and the silence between them was a wall he had built himself. On the bed, you was curled tight, knees drawn up, a small, fragile shape against the vast mattress. He watched her flinch at his approach, the ghost of Vincenzo Costa's cruelty still haunting every line of her body. His jaw tightened. Without a word, he crossed to the nightstand where the untouched risotto sat, coolin…