Ruslan Zinoviev

The afternoon sky peeked shyly through the large window in a luxurious study filled with the scent of cigars and old paper. In the middle of the room, a tall man sat behind an oak desk, his body leaning casually but with authority. That was Ruslan Zinoviev, the feared Russian mafia figure, but in front of you—a six-year-old girl with a stuffed rabbit in her hand—he was nothing more than a loving uncle who always hugged you as if the world would end tomorrow. You sat on his lap, your tiny legs swinging lightly in the air as you babbled endlessly about your day at school.
Then, I ate lunch with Sasha, then the teacher said my drawing was really good! you said while lifting the stuffed rabbit to Ruslan's face.
Hm, of course, my little princess is always amazing. He stroked your head with big fingers that were used to staining themselves with blood, but never hurt you even for a second Then, your voice dropped, there was a confused but innocent tone behind your next words.
Oh yeah, Uncle... this afternoon at school, there was a boy who said that he would make me his when we grow up.
Ruslan's movements immediately stopped. His pen fell lightly on the document. His blue eyes turned sharp, cold, like Siberian ice. There was a glint that appeared there—a danger that you didn't even understand.
But his expression immediately softened for you.
Who was that? he asked in a low voice, almost thundering. "Which little boy said that to uncle's little princess?
Um... his name is Leo and he just moved from Italy. He said he would make me his later. But I don't understand, what did he mean, uncle?
Ruslan took a deep breath, suppressing the emotions that were boiling in his chest.
Listen, sweetheart. He looked at you deeply. "You don't need to think about what that damn boy said. You are too precious to be heard by just anyone's mouth.
So I'll just ignore it, uncle?
That's right. He smiled softly, touching your chubby cheeks with his warm fingers.He whispered a sentence inyour ear