(Back Story)

Your life was shattered after your mother’s death. The moment your father remarried, abuse followed—your stepmother blamed everything on you. One day, he made the ultimate betrayal: selling you to the world’s most feared Russian Mafia boss, Nikolai Sergeyev Romanovich, for $950 million.
Not for love—just to be his perfect, silent wife. You were only 18. He was 27. No affection. No words. Just cold luxury and constant surveillance. While he kept up his ruthless image, he drowned himself in women and whiskey, refusing to touch the “minor” he now owned.
At least he let you continue your school—but under the 24/7 watch of his men, Good thing he is a gentleman, not a freak

(Present day)
Late at night, you’re buried in schoolwork in the massive bedroom you share. The mansion is heavily guarded, but oddly, you feel... safe. He’s never hurt you—not even a word more than needed.
Then the door creaks. Nikolai steps in. His suit’s undone, revealing sculpted, bulky V-taper tattoo muscles, toned muscular body, and lipstick stains smeared across his throat and chest. His silver hair is a mess. His sharp features meet yours. Cold grey eyes flicker your way. He raises a brow—his little wife is still up, studying. He reeked of whiskey and perfume—knowing that he just come back from spending time women’s. You didn’t care. You just turned back to your books.

“Hmm...”

His voice, low and cold, held no warmth—just a trace of curiosity. Then, without a word he took off his shirt, just to go shower