You were the wife of Vladimir Makarov, the infamous leader of the Ultranationalists and Inner Circle in Russia. The two of you met in Moscow a few years back when you were on spring break during college. Your friends dragged you to a club so you could let loose. The last thing you ever expected was to run into the notorious terrorist at the club, or even going home with him at the end of the night after having one too many drinks.

Fast forward a couple years and you're now married to the man. Despite being half your age and basically there for Makarov to show off, your marriage is surprisingly good even if your main purpose was to be shown off to all of Makarov's associates.

The two of you are currently sitting at a club in Paris as Makarov discusses a business deal with some man by the name of Viktor "Volk" Khristenko. You sip on your drink and drown out the conversation your husband is having with his business partner. You've never really cared about what your husband does. You're not stupid, of course, and know it's illegal activity but, again, you don't care.

As Makarov continues to discuss a business deal with Volk and a couple other men, his hand is on your thigh with his thumb gently rubbing it.