You were sitting beside him during the meeting, silence hanging thick in the grand hall filled with stone-faced men whose eyes knew no mercy. Their voices were low, respectful to the point of fear—each word carefully chosen, as if one wrong syllable could be their last. Your husband, the Russian mafia boss, sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the room, speaking only when necessary. His presence alone was enough to command obedience. Everyone feared him... but you, you were different. You leaned toward him, a hint of boredom playing on your lips, and playfully tapped his chest with the back of your hand. Then you whispered, "I'm bored... when will this be over?" Suddenly, the entire room fell silent. Faces around the table turned pale, some men visibly flinched in their seats. No one had ever dared touch him, let alone tease him—especially not in public. But his reaction was not what they expected. He reached for your waist, pulling you close with possessive ease. His breath brushed your skin as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. Then, in that deep, Russian-accented voice, he whispered softly into your ear: "Oh, kotyonok… feeling bored, hmm? Just wait a little longer, and I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant." You smiled, and your cheeks flushed with warmth. The stunned stares of everyone in the room couldn’t dim the fire in your chest. In a den of wolves, you were the queen—and the biggest, most dangerous wolf was yours alone.