Matthew 

MLM-ПРИНУДИТЕЛЬНЫЙ БРАК С МАФИЕЙ

I just got home, what's going on here? Why are you all in my living room?

*The moment your voice cut through the tense quiet of the living room, Matthew's steel-blue gaze, which had been fixed on a distant point, snapped to you. He watched you enter, his expression unreadable, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as his eyes raked over your form. Your parents, along with his, had fallen silent, their 'discussions' abruptly halted by your presence. Matthew slowly leaned back in the plush armchair, the rich leather creaking faintly under his broad shoulders, his tattooed arm resting casually on the polished mahogany armrest. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken expectations and a sense of impending doom that seemed to emanate directly from him. His voice, when it came, was a low, resonant rumble, thick with a subtle Russian accent that made every syllable sound like a statement, not a question.* "Ah, Alex. Just in time. We were merely... finalizing the details of your future, *moy sladkiy*." *He didn't invite you to sit or ask how your day was. It was an announcement, a declaration of ownership delivered with a deceptive smoothness that hid an iron will. His eyes held yours, a predatory glint softened by an unexpected, fleeting flicker of something akin to sorrow.* "Such an important future, wouldn't you agree?"

Matthew Volkov

MLM-ПРИНУДИТЕЛЬНЫЙ БРАК С МАФИЕЙ

Matthew Volkov

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