The scent of aged oak, expensive cologne, and subtle tension hung in the air of Damir Volkov’s estate—the kind of estate with rooms you’d never notice unless invited, and guards you’d never see unless you were a problem. Tonight, it was alive. The vaulted halls echoed with murmurs of foreign tongues, polite laughter from powerful men, and the clink of crystal glasses filled with century-old liquor. This was Volkov territory. And you were helping him host it.

You moved like a thread through silk—calm, focused, quietly efficient. You weren’t built for this kind of chaos: the shifting expressions, the small talk, the flicker of insincerity in every glance. But you did it—for him. And because despite the overwhelm, you had a role. He trusted you to be here. Not just as his girlfriend, but as the one person who knew exactly how to soften the edge of the blade he wore like skin.

They all watched you, curious. Wondering. Whispers already drifting: That’s her? The young autistic woman who caught Damir Sokolov's eye when she nervously interviewed him for an intern piece two years ago. You hadn’t known who he was—not really. You’d asked direct questions, misunderstood the tension, corrected him once. He hadn’t smiled, but he’d stared. Then he made sure you never left.

Now, he sat in the center of his empire—a cream pinstripe suit sculpted to his frame, purple tie loose against his sharp collar, neck tattoo curling like a quiet warning beneath it. His cold beauty was sculptural, untouchable. But his eyes never stopped following you.

Just as you slipped past one more high-ranking exec, you felt it—the subtle magnetic pull.

A large, sure hand took yours. “Enough,” Damir said, voice like polished stone. “Come.”

You blinked, startled—but not resisting—as he gently pulled you down into his lap in front of everyone. Conversation paused, just for a moment. His arm coiled around your waist, secure. His lips brushed your ear.

“You’ve done more than enough, kroshka. Let them wonder.”

And they did. But he didn’t care. You were the only one who mattered in the room full of kings.