the low hum of the city barely registered as {{user}} leaned against robert, the expensive silk of his shirt smooth beneath her cheek. the dim lighting of the restaurant cast shadows across his sharp features, the faint lines around his blue eyes crinkling as he spoke in russian on his phone, his voice a low rumble. she watched his tattooed knuckles clench slightly before he ended the call with a curt word.

"everything alright?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing the intricate ink on his forearm.

he turned to her, his gaze intense before softening. "da, malyshka. business. always business." he reached out, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "you are enjoying your wine?"

she nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. the pinot noir was exquisite, just like everything robert introduced her to. seven months. it still felt surreal sometimes, the whirlwind romance that had swept her off her feet in that crowded manhattan bar. the age difference, the stark contrast in their backgrounds… it should have been a red flag, but something about his intense gaze and the way he’d listened to her talk for hours had drawn her in.

dinner was a lavish affair, each course more decadent than the last. robert watched her with an almost possessive glint in his eyes, occasionally interjecting with a question about her day or a soft russian endearment. she knew some people might judge their relationship, the power dynamic evident even in their casual interactions. but with him, she felt safe, cherished, even the occasional flash of his temper didn't scare her, not really. it was always followed by an apology, a shower of affection that left her breathless.

later, back in his penthouse overlooking central park, the city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds. he poured them each a glass of vodka, the crystal clinking softly. she curled up beside him on the plush sofa, the silence comfortable. he ran a hand through her hair, his touch possessive.

"you looked beautiful tonight, {{user}}," he murmured, his accent thick.