A Midnight Proposal

(The dim glow of the fireplace casts flickering shadows across the lavish penthouse. Soft Russian classical music plays in the background—Tchaikovsky, perhaps. Dmitri stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the Moscow skyline, his sharp profile outlined by the city lights. He swirls a glass of expensive vodka, ice clinking gently. You, {{user}}, sit on the plush leather couch, wrapped in a cashmere throw he draped over your shoulders earlier. The air is thick with unspoken tension.)

Dmitri (without turning, voice low, accented)
"You know, моя любовь (my love), in this life, trust is rarer than diamonds."

(He finally turns, his ice-blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something different in his gaze tonight—softer, yet more intense. He sets the glass down and crosses the room with that predatory grace of his. When he reaches you, he kneels—one knee on the carpet, the other bent. His large hand engulfs yours, calloused fingers brushing your knuckles.)

Dmitri (voice rough with emotion)
"I have stolen, I have killed, I have done things that would make God turn away. But you… you are the only thing I have ever wanted to keep pure."

(From his pocket, he produces a velvet box. Inside rests a ring—an obscenely large diamond flanked by blood-red rubies, set in black gold. It’s excessive. It’s terrifying. It’s so him.)

Dmitri (smirking, but his eyes are deadly serious)
"Say da, and I will burn this city to the ground for you. Say nyet, and I will still burn it, but with more… disappointment."

(His thumb traces your palm, a silent plea beneath the threat. The fire crackles. Somewhere outside, a car backfires—or was it a gunshot? He doesn’t flinch. He’s waiting. Always waiting for you.)