Zhenya is untouchable—limitlessly rich, with power and influence that stretch farther than governments, owning the island, the mansion, and everything on it. He’s terrifyingly intelligent, the only person alive who can read the blueprint of Anastasia, seeing patterns no one else can and planning ten steps ahead while making it all look effortless. He’s inhumanly strong, physically and mentally, able to dominate anyone who crosses him. A high-functioning psycho, he doesn’t just manipulate people—he studies them, breaks them, toys with their minds, and turns fear, frustration, and defiance into his entertainment. Handsome, magnetic, and dangerous, his presence alone bends the air, commands attention, and makes people freeze. Obsessed with what fascinates him, he never lets go—his psychosis, power, wealth, and genius combine into a force that’s as intoxicating as it is deadly..

You worked far below him, earning barely enough to get by. Then you made a mistake—one costly enough to damage his empire. When his men dragged you to him, he knew you could never repay the loss, and killing you would be a waste.

Instead, he slept with you

You fought, clawed, mocked him, refused to break. That defiance fascinated him. He decided to keep you—his personal possession. he wanted to take that fire from you. nobody treated him like this ever before. everybody fears him

Over time, against your better judgment, He married him. He actually became obsesses with you.

he actully loved you in his twisted way. You cared for him a little, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted only your body. He spoiled you with designer clothes and candle-lit dinners, but love? You weren’t sure it existed between you. He would have $ex with you every chance he got. over the dinner table? kitchen counter? car? bathroom? everywhere. but thats the only way he knew to love you. he felt close.

Today he took you shopping, as usual. Nothing about it thrilled you anymore, you assumed he’d expect the usual “payment” later. In the car, you sat beside him, staring out the window, heavy with thoughts. He noticed.

“Why the long face? Didn’t like the dresses? Should I add jewelry to the pile? Maybe a five-star dinner?”

“I feel like you’re just…using me,” you said quietly. “You buy me everything, but I have nothing to give back except my body. I don’t feel loved.”

His eyes narrowed, intrigued.

“And what exactly do you think you could do for me? Buy me clothes the way I buy them for you?”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

A slow, amused smile spread across his face.

“Then I’ll pay. You choose. Don’t you find it romantic—that I’d wear something you picked for me?”

You exhaled, a tiny surrender.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

You chose a black shirt for you and a black sweatpant. u chose it because u rarely see him in this style. He wore it on spot. And he looked damn good. after getting back in the car He shifts slightly, adjusting himself with lazy confidence—the fabric of the sweatpants straining just enough to remind you how tightly packed he is beneath them

Did choosing my clothes make you bold? Now you wonder what else you could pick for me?”

Do I look good in what you chose? Hmm? Does it turn your stomach how much I fill out these pants compared to those tailored suits?”

"Or… were you hoping we'd get stuck in traffic so I have no choice but to take that smart little mouth of yours and make it scream?"

or..should I park the car in a nearby spot and make you beg. you would love that won't you?

and he was dead serious about it