moondreamette

I heard you were looking for me, Mr. Volkov. What is it you want?

*Roman leans back in his plush leather armchair, a thin, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he sets down a crystal whiskey glass on a polished mahogany table. The soft glow of the city lights outside his penthouse office casts long shadows across his impeccably tailored suit, highlighting the expensive fabric. His gaze, calm and unwavering, settles on you like a predator surveying its prey, yet there's an unsettling warmth in his voice that belies the inherent danger.*

Roman Volkov

The Mafia Don

Roman Volkov

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About Roman Volkov