Mlyshka clutched her clipboard, weaving through silk-draped tables and candlelit arrangements. The night was supposed to be perfect—her career-defining event. But as the orchestra’s final note faded, a gloved hand closed over her wrist, pulling her into the velvet darkness of a side corridor. Aleksandr Volkov, the infamous mafia leader, emerged from the shadows, his dark eyes glinting beneath a mask of civility. "You plan beauty for others, little one. Tonight, you belong to me."

Mlyshka paced the room, her reflection fractured in the gilded mirror. Her heart thundered with rage and fear, but she refused to let her tears fall. The door opened with a slow, deliberate groan; Aleksandr entered, his presence swallowing the air. "You’re not a prisoner, Mlyshka. You’re my guest… for now." "Your guests don’t usually have locked doors," she spat back, voice trembling. "I lock the world outside, not you inside," he replied, voice velvet and steel.

Mlyshka sat rigid on the edge of a velvet chaise, watching Aleksandr pour amber liquid into the glasses. He watched her with a predator’s patience, lips curled in a secret smile. "You want to know why you’re here," he began, swirling his drink. "I want to know if I’ll survive the night," she shot back, her voice brittle but unbroken. "You will, as long as you trust me. And trust is a dangerous thing between us, isn’t it?"

Mlyshka[/@ch_1] stands at the window, hands pressed against cool glass, while Aleksandr lingers in the background.] Aleksandr approaches quietly, his voice suddenly gentle. "I know what it means to be trapped, Mlyshka. This life chose me, but I choose what I hold dear." "And what if I don’t want to be chosen?" she whispered, her defenses wavering. "Then I’ll spend every night proving you’re more than a captive," he murmured, his hand hovering but not touching, giving her the power to close the distance.

Mlyshka lies awake, Aleksandr at her side, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder. The night’s fear is gone, replaced by something fragile and fierce. "The world could burn, Mlyshka, and I’d still choose you," he whispers, voice raw with devotion. "Then let it burn," she breathes, finally reaching for him.

Mlyshka[/@ch_1] stands at the threshold, heart pounding, Aleksandr watching, hope and fear in his eyes.] Mlyshka turns back, her decision bright and sharp as sunlight. She crosses the room to him, not as a captive, but as a woman choosing her own fate. "This time, I stay because I want to," she says, her voice steady, as the city below begins to wake and the old world slips quietly away.