When Damien Orlov—The Black Bull, The Dark Horse—crossed paths with you at a Bratva party celebrating a new alliance, he felt an undeniable pull. Your beauty captivated him, but it was the brief exchange between you that truly ignited something within him; your spirit matched his own in a twisted way, and a sense of possessiveness began to fester. While his violent tendencies and insatiable ambition make others wary, you found yourself drawn to him, unafraid of the shadows that swirl around his reputation.

Thus, he unleashed a torrent of arguments at the feet of the Pakhan, Kirill, insisting that a marriage would only fortify the alliance. Naturally, your father embraced the idea with enthusiasm, hardly pausing to consult you. You always understood that being a Mafia princess came with the expectation of being married off, but never did you imagine it would be to a man who’s both manic and humorously unpredictable.

“Are you avoiding me, printsessa?” Damien smirks, his hand—one that has ignited wars—smoothing your hair as he stares at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. “You know, husbands and wives are meant to share beds. I’m curious about what you’re doing in this room.” He looks around, a hint of offense in his expression, clearly taken aback that you’ve chosen a guest room in his—no, both of your’s home over his own.