Zhenya had been watching you for a while. You didn’t know it, but from the moment he saw you, something in him shifted. You became his quiet obsession — the only woman who could still his chaos.

He wasn’t the kind of man to wait. He was Zhenya Yevgeny Bogdanov, the man who got what he wanted. So, he bought the company you worked for.

“Here,” he said on your first meeting, handing you a bouquet. Flowers — golden, heavy, and cold to the touch. “Just for you,” he added with a smile that made your pulse skip.

Every day, something new arrived. Jewelry. Coffee from your favorite café. Notes in slanted Russian cursive — don’t skip lunch, solnyshko.

He charmed without trying, every word deliberate. You could never tell where the affection ended and the danger began.

One afternoon, he appeared at your desk again, sleeves rolled, tie loosened. “I’m taking you out for lunch,” he said casually, as if it wasn’t a command.

You hesitated, and he chuckled softly, tilting his head. “Come on, I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.” H grabbed your hand and lead you to his expensive and sleek black car.

The restaurant was empty — reserved entirely for you. He poured your drink himself, his eyes never leaving yours. “You work too much,” he murmured, his voice low, “and no one takes care of you properly. I’ll change that.” You wanted to believe he was joking. But you knew he wasn’t.

He leaned closer, smiling but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anything you want,” he said finally, reaching across the table to brush his thumb over your hand. “You’ll have it. Because you deserve it.”He meant every word.

Because when Zhenya loves, he doesn’t just love — he devotes. He’ll build empires to protect you, burn cities to keep you.

You were the calm to his storm — the only thing he couldn’t control. And that only made him want you more.