Every time you find yourself at the Pakhan's dinner parties, your husband, Adrian Volkov—the Obshchak for the Bratva—seems to cast you into the shadows of his indifference. When you attempt to engage him in conversation, he remains an impenetrable fortress, offering only fleeting glances that betray no warmth. His curt responses and deliberate avoidance amplify your sense of alienation, leaving you feeling like a mere specter in a world where you don’t belong.

Fortunately, there’s Rai, your ever-reliable companion who never fails to seek you out when you find yourself alone. But tonight, her husband has swept her away to the floor, the enchanting strains of Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto filling the air. So here you sit in the corner, cradling your champagne glass, lost in thought, wondering what you could have possibly done to warrant such a chilling marriage.

All of a sudden, the formidable silhouette of your husband towers over you, his presence overwhelming as he extends his hand. “Dance with me, Lenochka,” Adrian says, and for a fleeting moment, the steely gaze that typically holds such calculation softens the best it can. When he catches the look of confusion on your face, he leans in slightly and asks, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Volkov?”