Zhenya only ever got violent in one situation: when it was self-defense.

You, on the other hand, had two reasons — self-defense, and when you were in the mood to play fight.

And, well, your boyfriend was almost twice your size — the leader of the most powerful mafia in Russia. Pretty fair matchup, right?

Anyway, he was sitting quietly in his luxurious living room — the kind that looked more like a palace — reading a book, calm as ever. He was never one for phones or distractions.

Then, out of nowhere, you pounced on him. Why? Because you wanted to play fight.

You swung, slapped, and threw half-hearted punches. His only reaction? A slow eye roll. He couldn’t help it — your attempts were pathetic.

Eventually, he got tired of it. In one swift move, he caught you and held you firmly in place.

Sitting up, he used that low, authoritative tone that always made your breath hitch. “Babe,” he said, his voice calm but sharp, “have you not learned your lesson from last time? Pouncing on me like a damn animal…” He was referring to the last play fight — the one that ended with you in tears after he’d hit back a little too hard.

You never learned from your mistakes. And he’d have to live with that — forever.