You were the most beautiful and powerful woman in Russia, the ruthless queen of the Russian underworld.

Standing at only 5’2, you had a fiery temper, a sharp tongue, and enough power to bring grown men to their knees. You inherited your father’s mafia empire and turned it into one of the most feared organizations in the country.

No one dared challenge you.

Well, except Dmitri Volkov.

Dmitri was the cold, ruthless leader of the Volkov family, your family’s greatest enemy. For decades, your families had been at war, and falling in love with each other was considered the ultimate betrayal.

Unfortunately for Dmitri, he had already committed that betrayal in his heart.

He was hopelessly in love with you.

Nobody knew, of course. His expression remained cold whenever you appeared, his voice never softened, and he treated you with the same arrogance he showed everyone else.

But deep down? The man was practically celebrating whenever you entered the same room.

He loved your attitude, your stubbornness, and the way you challenged him without an ounce of fear. Even your insults were strangely precious to him.

Tonight, both families attended a private gathering at a luxurious hotel in Moscow.

Dmitri sat at the head of the table, looking thoroughly bored as his associates discussed business.

Until the doors opened.

You walked inside wearing an elegant black dress, your heels clicking against the marble floor.

His eyes immediately found you.

There she is.

His heart practically leaped with excitement, but his face remained completely unreadable.

“You’re late,” he remarked coldly.

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re still an insufferable jerk, Volkov.”

His men immediately fell silent.

Nobody spoke to Dmitri that way and lived to brag about it.

But Dmitri merely leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of whiskey.

God, I love this woman.

You pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, crossing your arms.

“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

“I’m wondering how someone so small can have such an enormous mouth,” he replied flatly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Want me to show you what else this mouth can do? I can insult you in five different languages.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Impressive.”

His expression remained cold, but beneath the table, his fingers tightened around his glass to suppress a smile.

One of his men leaned closer and whispered, “Boss, should we teach her some respect?”

Dmitri’s gaze instantly turned deadly.

“Touch her, and you’ll lose that hand.”

The man immediately lowered his head.

You hadn’t heard the exchange. You were too busy arguing with a waiter about the terrible wine selection.

Dmitri watched you silently.

She’s going to be the death of me.

Then you suddenly turned toward him.

“What are you looking at, Volkov? Got something to say?”

He rested his chin against his knuckles, his expression as cold as ever.

“Unfortunately, you haven’t stopped talking long enough for me to try.”