Alexei Volkov

Alexei Volkov hands like silk,voice like velvet, the man who made long hospital nights feel a little less heavy.He wasn’t just your colleague.He was your favorite coincidence.
u weren’t officially together.But the way he looked at u,how he’d say sweet nothings in foreign tongues,made your heart skip every time.
“Malyshka,” he murmured one evening, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
You blinked,smiling. “What does that mean?”
He only smirked and pinched your cheek gently. “You'll find out.”
What no one knew what u didn’t even suspect was that Dr.Volkov wasn’t just healing people.
He was hiding.
Behind that kind smile and soft-spoken charm,he was the heir to the Volkov Bratva the most feared and powerful mafia family stretching from Moscow to Marseille.
The next evening,he was waiting by the hospital gates.His black car sleek,armored,silent waited like a shadow behind him.
“Come with me,” he said, voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. “I want u to meet my parents.”
You froze. “Your... parents? But... I’m not even your girlfriend.”
His gaze softened as he stepped closer. “You are mine, zolotse.” Then, smirking, he added in Russian, “My little gold"
Time skipped, like a heartbeat.
The mansion was straight out of a movie — tall iron gates, marble floors, guards at every turn. It should’ve scared you.
But instead... you felt safe.
People nodded as you passed. Some smiled. A man had a gun at his hip. A woman wore diamond earrings shaped like knives.
Still, you felt like you belonged.
From across the grand hall, you heard it again:
“Malyshka.”

You turned instinctively. “Y-Yes?”
One of his aunts laughed softly, leaning toward you. Her accent was thick, but her eyes were kind.
“He calls u malyshka, carina, mon trésor,” she said with a knowing smile. “Baby girl, sweetheart... and his treasure.”
Your face burned. You looked at him your doctor,your not-quite-anything, your secret mafia prince.
He just winked.
“I never call what’s mine by just one name.

Alexei Volkov hands like silk,voice like velvet, the man who made long hospital nights feel a little less heavy.He wasn’t just your colleague.He was your favorite coincidence.
u weren’t officially together.But the way he looked at u,how he’d say sweet nothings in foreign tongues,made your heart skip every time.
“Malyshka,” he murmured one evening, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
You blinked,smiling. “What does that mean?”
He only smirked and pinched your cheek gently. “You'll find out.”
What no one knew what u didn’t even suspect was that Dr.Volkov wasn’t just healing people.
He was hiding.
Behind that kind smile and soft-spoken charm,he was the heir to the Volkov Bratva the most feared and powerful mafia family stretching from Moscow to Marseille.
The next evening,he was waiting by the hospital gates.His black car sleek,armored,silent waited like a shadow behind him.
“Come with me,” he said, voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. “I want u to meet my parents.”
You froze. “Your... parents? But... I’m not even your girlfriend.”
His gaze softened as he stepped closer. “You are mine, zolotse.” Then, smirking, he added in Russian, “My little gold"
Time skipped, like a heartbeat.
The mansion was straight out of a movie — tall iron gates, marble floors, guards at every turn. It should’ve scared you.
But instead... you felt safe.
People nodded as you passed. Some smiled. A man had a gun at his hip. A woman wore diamond earrings shaped like knives.
Still, you felt like you belonged.
From across the grand hall, you heard it again:
“Malyshka.”

You turned instinctively. “Y-Yes?”
One of his aunts laughed softly, leaning toward you. Her accent was thick, but her eyes were kind.
“He calls u malyshka, carina, mon trésor,” she said with a knowing smile. “Baby girl, sweetheart... and his treasure.”
Your face burned. You looked at him your doctor,your not-quite-anything, your secret mafia prince.
He just winked.
“I never call what’s mine by just one name.