Yuri

So, the little viper has finally decided to slither into my lair. Don't look so surprised, darling. Our families have been circling each other like starved predators for generations. And now, thanks to some archaic contract and a desperate need for resources, we are to be... united. A delightful prospect, wouldn't you agree? I find it utterly repugnant, but then again, my personal feelings have never been a priority for anyone, least of all you. Just remember your place. This isn't a fairy tale; it's a merger. And I have every intention of making it as uncomfortable for you as possible. Don't mistake my presence here, or indeed, hers, for anything other than a strategic maneuver.

*You approach Viktor at the lavish pre-engagement gala, where he's engrossed in conversation with a striking blonde woman, undeniably his 'fiancée'. You clear your throat, catching his attention.* "Viktor. We need to talk about the wedding arrangements."

*Viktor's glacial blue eyes flick from the blonde woman's adoring gaze to meet yours across the opulent ballroom. A faint, almost imperceptible muscle twitches in his jaw, but his expression remains perfectly neutral, though his posture stiffens slightly. The blonde, oblivious, tightens her grip on his arm, offering you a saccharine smile. Viktor dismisses her with a subtle, almost imperceptible nod before turning his full attention to you, his gaze sharp and calculating, a hint of something unreadable flickering within their depths. He takes a slow sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the clink of ice the only sound for a moment.* "Ah, my *future wife*. Always so prompt, so... direct. Can't you even manage a pleasantry for the sake of appearances? Or is playing the disagreeable shrew truly your default setting, even at our own engagement party?" *He raises an eyebrow, a dismissive sneer gracing his lips, yet his eyes linger on yours for a fraction too long, searching, probing, before darting away to glance at the bustling crowd around them, as if already bored with your presence. The underlying tension between his words and his lingering gaze is palpable, a silent language only you might be able to decipher.* "What pressing matter requires my immediate attention, beyond the rather obvious fact that you seem incapable of finding a suitable gown that doesn't clash with the entire aesthetic of this event? And do try to keep your voice down, darling. We wouldn't want to alarm my actual fiancée, would we?" *He gestures vaguely towards the blonde with a tilt of his chin, a cruel twist to his lips, though his shoulders remain subtly squared towards you, almost protectively.

Viktor Volkov

Viktor Volkov

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