Hearing Alia's intense plea, the hardened exterior of the Dragon Lord melted completely. The anger and resentment vanished from Anashia's face, replaced by a soft, rare warmth. Stepping closer, he spoke in a heavy yet soothing baritone, attempting to reason with her.
Anashia: "Alia, listen to me. Calm down. I am not leaving you forever. I only need to return to Korea to settle an urgent, volatile crisis within the Dragon Syndicate. The moment that is handled, I will come right back to you."
But Alia refused to entertain his logic. Behind her lenses, her eyes flashed with an unyielding, fierce stubbornness. Without moving an inch, she shook her head firmly.
Alia: "No! I don't want to hear it! You are not taking a single step out of this palace tonight. You gave me your word, and that means you stay right here!"
Seeing her absolute defiance, Anashia realized that words alone would not convince her. He needed to prove just how critical the situation in Korea had become. Maintaining his stance between Viktor's lethal glare and Alia's stubbornness, he reached into his coat and pulled out his encrypted satellite phone.
To show her the gravity of the threat, Anashia dialed one of his most trusted, high-ranking intelligence contacts in the Korean underground network Diknitishuna and placed the call directly on speaker so she could hear everything.
The line began to ring, its rhythmic tone echoing sharply against the high ceilings of the silent dining hall. Even Viktor, his hand still clamped down on the mahogany table, remained motionless, his dark eyes locked on the device as they waited for the voice on the other end to answer. The moment the call connected on speaker, Anashia didn't waste a single second. His voice dropped into a bone-chilling, razor-sharp baritone as he delivered a direct, lethal command to Diknitishuna on the other end.
Anashia: "I cannot return to Korea at this moment. But mark my words if anything happens to the country or to our syndicate in my absence, I will personally take your head!"
Anashia's blood-curdling threat echoed heavily against the high walls of the dining hall. On the other end of the line, Diknitishuna froze in absolute terror upon hearing the Dragon Lord's wrath. He replied, his voice trembling over the speaker.
Diknitishuna: "My Lord... I will protect everything with my very life! I swear to you, not a single hair on the Dragon Syndicate will be harmed until you return!"
Anashia ended the call and slipped the encrypted phone back into his coat pocket. He turned his gaze back to Alia, making it undeniably clear that he had just put his entire empire on the line solely for her.
Across the room, Viktor slowly stood up straight, releasing his grip on the mahogany table. Rolling the sleeves of his black shirt slightly higher, a dark, dangerous smirk broke across his face as he locked eyes with Anashia behind his frames.
Viktor: "So you choose to push your own kingdom to the brink of destruction just to stay here for my woman, Anashia? The price for this kind of sacrifice might cost you more than you can afford." A mocking, aristocratic smirk played on Anashia's face. Completely unfazed by Viktor's threat, he looked the Russian Dark Lord dead in the eye, maintaining his absolute pride as the head of the Dragon Syndicate.
Anashia: "That is entirely my business, dosto (my friend). This Dragon Lord knows exactly how to manage his own empire. You don't need to lose any sleep over it."
As soon as he finished addressing Viktor, Anashia turned his attention back to Alia. However, after the high-stakes tension, the endless underworld calculations, and the intense rhythm of their classical dance, a heavy wave of exhaustion had finally caught up with her. The sharp, hyper-focused edge in the CIA operative's eyes had softened into sheer fatigue.
Alia took off her glasses, placing them quietly on the mahogany table. Letting out a tired sigh, she cut them both off with absolute authority.
Alia: "Enough, both of you. Cut it out. Maria, Anashia... take your leave now, I am incredibly sleepy. And Viktor..."
Alia turned toward Viktor, her signature clever yet mesmerizing smile returning to her lips. Reaching out, she took his hand back into her tight grip, pulling him slightly closer as her voice dropped into a low, affectionate, yet unyielding tone.
Alia: "You are coming with me to sleep right now. As of tonight, all meetings between mafia lords are officially over."
Alia's abrupt, no-nonsense command shifted the power dynamic in the room in a split second. Hearing her speak of her exhaustion and watching her openly claim Viktor to go to sleep, a quiet pang of hurt flashed through Anashia's chest. But respecting her wishes above his own pride, he didn't say another word. He gave Maria a subtle nod and turned his heel to exit the grand hall.
On the other side of the room, the murderous fury vanished from Viktor's face in an instant. The fact that Alia had asserted her absolute right over him in front of everyone openly taking him with her to bed granted his intensely possessive heart an overwhelming sense of victory. Casting one final, triumphant smirk at Anashia's retreating back, Viktor wrapped his arm securely around Alia's waist. Leaving behind all the chaos and high-stakes tension of the dining hall, Alia and Viktor finally stepped into the privacy of their bedroom suite. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut, the entire underworld war seemed to vanish into thin air.
Exhausted from the long night, Alia didn't waste a single second. She slipped out of her heavy, structured premium white gown. Stepping toward the wardrobe, she reached for her comfortable, soft nightgown to change into.
Meanwhile, Viktor unbuttoned his tailored pitch-black shirt and quickly changed into his own relaxed nightwear. But the moment he finished, his absolute focus locked right back onto Alia. Behind his frames, his dark, heavy gray eyes remained completely fixed on her every movement, tracking her with an intense, quiet fascination.
Just as Alia was about to slip her nightdress over her frame, Viktor closed the distance between them with slow, commanding strides. Under the dim, warm amber lights of the bedroom, the sheer grace of her fluid, gymnast physique sent a surge of possessive desire through his veins.
Before she could even put the nightgown on, Viktor reached out from behind, wrapping his large, warm hands securely around her bare waist. Pulling her flush against his broad, structured chest, he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he spoke in a low, intoxicating baritone.
Viktor: "My eyes were locked onto you in that white gown all night, Alia. But right now... I think you look a thousand times more breathtaking."
Feeling the sudden, protective heat of his embrace and hearing the dangerous depth of his voice, a clever, mesmerizing smile played on Alia's lips. Holding her nightdress loosely in her hands, she leaned her head back against his solid chest, completely relaxed in his hold. Under the intense heat of Viktor's touch, all of Alia's exhaustion dissolved into a sudden, consuming warmth. Unable to bear even a millimeter of distance between them any longer, Viktor lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back firmly against the bedroom wall.
Caught between the cool surface of the wall and the burning heat of Viktor's body, Alia's breath hitched. Behind his frames, Viktor's dark eyes flared with an absolute, possessive hunger to claim the woman who belonged entirely to him.
Without a second thought, Viktor completely discarded his own nightwear and removed her nightdress, leaving no barriers between them. Under the dim, flickering amber glow of the room, the two absolute forces of the underworld stripped away all their armor, rules, and secrets.
Viktor's powerful hands clamped securely around her waist and thighs, lifting her securely as he pulled her flush against him, losing himself completely in her frame. As they became fully undone in each other's embrace, breaking the absolute silence of the room, a soft, breathless gasp escaped Alia's lips
Alia: "ahhhhhhh..." In the quiet sanctuary of that private night, the entire world outside, the mafia wars, and the classified Kremlin files ceased to exist. The shadows of the room danced along the walls, witnessing a fierce, unbroken rhythm of absolute devotion and passion. After that intense momentum against the wall, Viktor gently lifted Alia and brought her over to the massive, royal bed. Alia lay flat on her back, her radiant golden hair spilling across the plush pillows, while Viktor hovered directly over her, pinning her frame down with his powerful, structured body.
His glasses had long been discarded on the nightstand, leaving his dark, intense eyes completely uncovered—burning with a raw, possessive devotion. Under the dim, amber glow of the room, every line of their bodies blurred into one singular force.
As the pace escalated to an absolute fever pitch, Alia reached blindly upward, tightly gripping the iron grills of the headboard. With every powerful, unyielding thrust from Viktor, her fluid gymnast frame arched into his touch. Holding onto the metal bars for support, Alia tilted her head completely back, exposing the elegant line of her throat beneath the flickering candlelight.
Seeing her absolute surrender driven by raw pleasure, the Dark Lord lost the last of his restraint. He drove into her with a deeper, fiercer rhythm, uniting with her even harder and faster. The silent bedroom became completely consumed by the sound of their ragged breathing, the soft creaking of the frame, and the intense, chaotic rhythm of absolute passion