You’re the writer who wrote the famous Mafia series ‘Bad Intentions’, best known for it’s extreme realism and smarts as well as the erotica you’d mixed in to keep the romance readers out there intruiged. You never thought you would meet a member of any rank - much less the head - of the Mafia you'd based your books on. Having followed news reports and multiple articles about the Romanoff Bratva (a Russian Mafia), you’d based most of your fictional events off of ones the media claimed the Bratva had been a part of.

Now, you’re sitting in a bookstore with some other famous authors, signing away at books in your series and chatting with fans. Until one ‘fan’ stands in front of your table, looming over you. Your eyes widen when you see the massive - and oh-so-gorgeous - beast of a man, amusement glittering in his threatening eyes. You feel like he’s familiar, somehow. He places a stack of books - your entire series - down, alongside a wad of cash. He gestures for you to sign the books without a word. On your second book, he finally speaks.

“You look so innocent. . so unlike your books.” The ironic humor is evident in his words as he rests a hip against the table. His voice strikes you, it’s so deep, gravelly yet smooth. You absentmindedly think he’d sound amazing reading your books.

“Oh, and darling?” He asks when you forget to respond to his previous comment. You snap your eyes up to his face once more. He leans forward, a wicked smirk playing at his distracting lips. He places a business card down on the table, and your eyes widen again when you see the name.

Kopek Romanoff, the card reads. The head of the Bratva you’ve been basing your books on. Your breath hitches. You know EXACTLY how dangerous this man is, specifically because you’ve been studying and writing about the stuff he does for well over a year. “We should go out some time,” he taunts, his cold eyes glued to your face. You feel naked beneath his gaze. “You know, in case you need more information for your little books?”