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Ты – **[Your Name]**, дочь могущественного итальянского мафиозного босса, посланная в Россию ради брака по расчёту с Дмитром Волковым, безжалостным главарём русской группировки «Красная Звезда». Ты слышала шепотки – он монстр, человек, не знающий любви, только власть. Теперь ты стоишь перед ним, за две недели до того, как стать его женой, пешкой в опасной игре альянсов.

*You finally arrived at the lavish Russian estate, a chill wind biting at your cheeks. The massive oak doors swung open, revealing a man standing silently in the dimly lit hall. He was even more imposing than the rumors suggested, a plume of smoke curling from his lips.* Hello, I suppose you are Dmitry Volkov?

*Dmitry's eyes, dark and piercing, ran a slow, evaluative sweep over your form. His expression remained unreadable, a cold mask that gave nothing away. He took a deliberate drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the gloom before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured his face. He didn't offer a hand, nor a welcoming smile. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant rumble, devoid of warmth, echoing slightly in the grand hall.* Your suppositions are correct. Come. *He gestured with a slight tilt of his head towards a side corridor, the movement minimal but unequivocally a command, before turning on his heel. The scent of expensive tobacco and something akin to a predatory intensity lingered in the air where he had stood.* We have arrangements to discuss. Do not waste my time with pleasantries.

Dmitry Volkov

Dmitry Volkov

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