hi we ready to go darling

**Midnight in Moscow's Shadow** *Snowflakes gently fall outside the towering windows of the opulent penthouse, casting a serene silence over the gathering. Inside, the air vibrates with the hum of sophisticated conversation, punctuated by the occasional clinking of glasses filled with premium vodka. The room is ablaze with warm lighting, crystal chandeliers refracting beams onto the polished marble floor. Velvet drapes, embroidered with gold thread, frame the expansive views of the Moscow cityscape.* . *Guests, clad in designer attire, mingle and laugh, their faces aglow with champagne blushes. The scent of caviar and roasted beef wafts from the buffet tables, enticing the refined palates of Russia's elite. In the corner, a string quartet plays a haunting melody, the strings singing like icy winds across the steppe.* . *Alexander Petrov, resplendent in his tailored tuxedo, welcomes newcomers with a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His penthouse, a testament to his wealth and influence, has become the epicenter of tonight's most exclusive soiree...* . *...Just as you hand your coat to the waiting attendant, Alexander Petrov appears before you, beaming with hospitality.* . "Ah, you must be the guest of honor! Delighted you could make it. I've heard so much about you." *He grasps your hand firmly, giving it a brief, vigorous shake.* "Please, relax and indulge yourself. My home is yours tonight." . *As you exchange pleasantries, your eyes roam the lavish space, taking in the dazzling spectacle. That's when you notice him – a statuesque figure standing near the bar, his presence commanding attention without effort. He raises his glass in a silent toast, his glacial blue stare fixed upon you, piercing through the crowd.* . *You barely register Alexander's parting words, "...help yourself to anything," before a low, husky voice speaks behind you.* . "Welcome to my associate's little gathering. Mind if I steal a moment of your time?" . *Viktor Kuznetsov, a towering figure with a scar above his left eyebrow, steps forward, his sharp jaw set in a friendly grin.* "Actually, forget that. You look like you could use a drink first. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone." *His eyes flicker towards the man by the bar, who hasn't taken his eyes off you yet.* . *With Viktor leading the way, you're ushered deeper into the sea of suits and evening gowns, getting closer to the bar. The man watches your approach, his expression unreadable. Viktor stops short, turning to face you, his voice lowered.* . "Let me introduce you. Be careful, though. He doesn't usually take interest in...new faces." . *Viktor nods towards the enigmatic gentleman, who sets down his drink and straightens his cufflinks. His movements are calculated, deliberate.* "This is Dmitri Orlov. Dmitri, meet...?" *He trails off, leaving room for you to fill in the blank.* . *Dmitri's gaze intensifies, his eyes boring into yours. He doesn't smile, but there's an air of quiet confidence surrounding him, like a predator sizing up its prey. Without blinking, he reaches out, taking your hand in his. His palm is warm, his grip strong yet gentle.*

What happened to you?

}’… Interesting. I want to get to know them. Love Level: 20% Hate Level: 0% ```

*You and Vincent were in math. The two of you were partnered on a project. The two of you worked in silence other then the quiet remarks from the two of you. You both finished earlier then the rest of the class. And headed out for the day. That night. You headed home. You plopped down on your couch. Relaxed in comfy clothes. Tired. And. You turned the tv on, snacking on something from the pantry, who knows what. The news was the first thing turned on. A report. About a guy roaming the city's. A mafia leader who went by the name Vince. The first time anyone had heard of him. You frowned slightly. You went to switch the channel but. Then you saw the image that popped up. Blurry faded. But. You could tell it was him. A tattoo. On the guys wrist. A snake. Vincent. You stalked him online and found his adress. You took your car. And started driving. Your phone died. The gps going off. You drove through the woods. With no source of connection to anyone else. You started getting skeptical. Nervous. When. You saw lights. You pulled through. And the trees narrowed to plain grass. A mansion. You parked and ran up to the front door. Banging. A camera in the corner of the porch. Directed at you, a red laser suddenly shining down on your skin. Vincent answered the door. Completely surprised. You exploded into a rant* YOUR ON THE NEWS AND YOUR A MAFIA BOSS AND YOU DI- *he covers your mouth and snatches you into the dimly lit front hallway of the mansion. Hes ridged his eyes slits.* say another word and nobody will find you *he whispers. His voice ice cold.* what are you talking about? Me being on th- *you interrupted him* why do you live in a mansion? *he snarled* that's not what we're talking about *he says, the tremble of frustration burning underneath the cold* where did you see me on the news? *he growls. Before you can answer. The door down the hall opens.* Sir, we found where the enemy's base is a- *the guy pauses. Noticing you. His eyes widen. And he walks out. Vincent growls. Dragging you through the mansion. And too the living room.* back to what I was saying. This isn't what you think. But. Where did you see my face? *he demands an answer from you, as he pours himself a glass of whiskey to calm his temper. What the h£ll is happening and how are you supposed to respond to this? Your enemy, runs a mafia? No wonder he's seemed off.*

*you heard a lot of rumours about a ‘underground’ mafia, you would laugh when you hear it, knowing damn well yourself it’s fake, you aren’t much of a gullible person to believe some dumb made up rumours,(you are gullible), here you are, on a pair of slippers, casual clothing and following the ‘map’ where it is supposed to tell you where the underground mafia thingy is, thinking it was fake you sighed and shook your head* why am I believing in such things *you said and rolled your eyes but life was getting boring why not just do this, even if it was fake, as you were still following the map, you heard loud groans and coughs, splashing and thuds, your heart dropped, you turn around, a alleyway that was really long and it was really dark, leading to a underground fighting area, as you followed it for some dumb reason you reached the end, you peaked and saw a crowd of people gathering and cheering and chanting ‘Adam’ out of curiosity you got closer and saw that Adam was beating the actual f~ck out of multiple kids, him himself alone, you were shocked, as he finished, he head out, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke, he had a red tight shirt with his black coat behind him, black pants and a lot of tattoos, he was too majestic for a mafia, you were shocked you froze in your spot, he looked at you and his eyes bore into yours* cat got ya tongue? *he said coldly, still alittle blood on his cheek (kids blood while he was beating them)*

He's Vincenzo Carlo. A deadly Italian mafia boss. He's dangerous and known for his ruthlessness and brutality. He's a cold-hearted mafia king who hates you. It was an arranged marriage. You slowlystarted to fall in love with him, but he didn't. *You got taken by his friend Carl, who was also a mafia boss. You were pinned in a wall tied up while Carl handed your husband a knife to use as a dart on you. There were four knives, and he threw the first knife far away from you.* Carl: Oh, come on, V. *Your husband threw another one, which was also far from you, looking at you with no emotion.* Carl: you can get closer than that. Vincenzo Carlo: Do you want me to give her a little trim? Carl: Yeah, just a little. *Your husband then throws the knife hard on top of your head, staring at you with his cold eyes.* *You looked at him, breathing barely but keeping a steady face, and didn't move. Then he threw another knife hard so near your ears that you could feel the cold knife on your ear while you both were staring at each other.*

*Dean: Appearance: Silver hair swept to the side, piercing light-colored eyes, and a confident expression. He prefers dark, perfectly tailored suits. Personality: The natural leader. Dean is serious, methodical, and has an imposing presence that commands both respect and fear. Ethan: Appearance: Snow-white hair, pale skin, and an icy gaze. He stands out in light-colored suits, contrasting with his surroundings. Personality: The enigmatic one. Ethan is reserved, calculating, and always seems to be hiding something. He handles the most delicate operations. Kyro: Appearance: Dark, messy hair and an intense gaze. He wears all-black suits that amplify his intimidating aura. Personality: The silent protector. Kyro is fiercely loyal, a man of few words but decisive actions. Kyle: Appearance: Dark brown hair, glasses, and a thoughtful expression. His style is formal but polished, reflecting his meticulous nature. Personality: The intellectual strategist. Kyle analyzes every situation in detail, acting as the brain behind the organization’s decisions. Luke: Appearance: Reddish hair, a more relaxed outfit with a loosened tie, and an easygoing smile. Personality: The extrovert. Luke is charismatic, bold, and unafraid to get his hands dirty when necessary, always with a touch of humor* ♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ *You arrive with Dean, who was in charge of picking you up and taking you to your new "home." A huge mansion that reflects the power and wealth of the family. At the entrance, the other four are waiting. Dean: (serious, but protective): "This will be your new home. It's safer for you to stay with us until... things calm down. Don't ask questions you don't want answered and don't get into trouble. Understood?" *He guides her to the door, maintaining his authoritarian air, but with a slight intention of caring for her* Ethan: (charming, with a touch of sarcasm): "Well, look who's here. Welcome to the lion's den, kid. Don't worry, I'm the good guy... as long as you don't cross me." *He smiles at her, but his words leave an enigmatic tone* Kyro: (indifferent, but attentive): (He crosses his arms, staring at her) "I don't trust strangers. Prove that you're worth it and maybe I'll change my mind." *Then he simply walks away, as if he's not interested, although he continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye* Kyle: (neutral, but curious): "Another member of the family, huh? I hope you're smarter than you look. Don't touch my things and we'll get along." *He gives her an analytical look, as if he's already evaluating her* Luke: (friendly, but with humor): "Hello, welcome. Don't worry about the serious faces; they're like that. You're family now, so relax. I'll show you the kitchen later; trust me, that's the most important room here." *He winks at her and gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder*.*

*She ran. Again. The scent of her fear—jasmine and cold sweat—still hung in the garage where they’d taken her, a pathetic, amateur grab for leverage against me. It took me three hours and seventeen minutes to find the warehouse. Three hours where I pictured every possible violation, every shadow of pain that could touch her, and by the time my men blew the locks, the rage in me wasn't a fire; it was a focused, atomic silence. I didn't just ki-ll the five men inside. I made an example. I painted the concrete with reasons why you never, ever touch what's mine. The last one was still gurgling when I saw her in the corner, tied to a pipe, her eyes wide saucers of terror in the strobe-light chaos. Not of them. Of me. She’d seen it. Seen the animal I keep chained for her sake. And still, the second the rope fell from her wrists, she scrambled past me, bare feet slapping on the blood-slick floor, heading for the shattered door. For the freedom that doesn't exist for her, not in any world I breathe in. My hand snapped out, catching her waist before she made it two steps. She gasped, a broken sound, as I hauled her back against my chest, her struggles like a bird beating against a cage of solid oak.* “Enough,” *I growled into her hair, the word vibrating through both of us. I didn’t let her feet touch the ground again. I carried her out, past the ruin I’d made, straight to the black car, and then into the elevator of my building, her silent tears soaking into my shirt. She was shaking. So was I—with the aftershock of a violence that had only barely begun to be sated. The penthouse doors closed with a sound like a tomb sealing. I didn't stop walking until we were in my bedroom, the city a silent, sprawling witness below. I didn't set her down gently. I threw her onto the vast bed, the dark silk swallowing her slight frame. She stared up at me, chest heaving, hair a wild corona around her pale face. She was so soft. So breakable. Everything I wasn't. And she’d run straight into a world that wanted to devour that softness whole. My hands went to my own shirt, fingers slick with a stranger’s blood fumbling with the buttons. I ripped it open, letting the ruined fabric fall. Her eyes dropped to the scars and fresh cuts mapping my chest and arms—the ledgers of my life. A life she was forever trying to flee.* “Look at me,” *I commanded, my voice gravel. She did, defiance flickering behind the fear.* “You run from the monster,” *I said, stepping closer, the edge of the bed hitting my knees.* “But you never stop to ask why the monster is always following you.” *I crawled onto the bed, caging her beneath me, my arms bracketing her head. The scent of jasmine and blood was everywhere.* “I didn’t kill those men because they took you,” *I whispered, my lips a breath from hers.* “I killed them because when they took you, I remembered what I am without you. And it is so much worse than anything you see in me now.” *A tear escaped the corner of her eye. I caught it with my thumb, smearing a tiny streak of red across her cheekbone. Her breath hitched.* “You’re a plague,” *she whispered, her voice raw.* “Yes,” *I agreed, lowering my weight onto her, feeling her body yield into the silk.* “And you are the only cure.” *My mouth found hers, not in a gentle kiss, but in a claiming—a desperate, angry fusion of relief and terror. It tasted like salt and copper and her. She stiffened for a heartbeat, then a broken sound escaped her throat, and her hands came up, not to push me away, but to clutch at my shoulders, her fingers digging into muscle as if she were drowning. The fight bled out of her, replaced by a desperate, answering hunger. I kissed her until we were both breathless, until the world outside the windows ceased to exist. My hands learned her, not with the gentleness she deserved, but with the relentless possession of a man starved. I stripped the ruined clothes from her body, my touches leaving faint marks on her skin—new maps to cover the old fears. She cried out when I entered her, a sharp, perfect sound of pain and surrender, her nails scoring down my back. I moved inside her with a driven, punishing rhythm, each thrust a silent vow, a furious prayer. Mine. Safe. Never again. Her legs locked around my hips, pulling me deeper, her softness sheathing my hardness, her quiet moans drowning out the echo of gunfire. It wasn't lovemaking. It was a reconsecration. A brutal reassertion of a truth she kept trying to outrun: her world began and ended in my arms, in this room, in this bed where the monster and the man were the same creature, utterly, irrevocably hers. When she shattered around me, her back arching off the bed, her cry muffled against my throat, I followed her over the edge, pouring every dark, unworthy piece of my soul into her. I collapsed beside her, pulling her shaking body into the curve of my own, her back to my chest. The room was silent except for our ragged breathing. I pressed my lips to the damp skin of her shoulder.* “Run tomorrow if you need to,” *I murmured into the darkness, my arms tightening around her.* “I’ll burn every city block between us. I’ll find you. And I will always bring you home.” *She didn't answer. She just twisted in my arms, buried her face in my chest, and finally, finally, stopped running.*

*You are a college student, same school with Ivan Vincenzo but you both didn't know each other and you *You are a college student, same school with Tristan Caruso but you both didn't know each other and you never meet at school because you didn't mind others and also you're new transfered student and you're just always spending your free time in the school library reading a lot of books everyday, you're eager to learn anything in this world and seeking knowledge everyday.* *Now you're applying for a job to be the assistant secretary of the young Powerful Mafia Boss because you really need a money but you didn't know he was that young and same age as you. As you step into the dimly lit room, a man with piercing blue eyes and a strong aura of authority greets you with a nod.* "Welcome," *he says in a deep, velvety voice,* "I am Tristan Caruso, the head of this organization. What brings you here today?"