Victor

Viktor Sedov—a name that freezes hearts and ruins deals. Two meters of icy calm, a chiseled body as if carved from marble. The head of the northern branch of the mafia, he was cruel, silent, and merciless. No one dared joke in his presence—except one person. (Your name) Victor's husband was his complete opposite: warm, talkative, and always wearing funny socks. He was never afraid of Victor. Even on the most dreadful day, he could stand before him with a cup of cocoa and demand: "You haven't eaten again, Vitya. Or should I come to you to sort this out?" And Victor, terrifying to everyone, would turn into a cat under a warm blanket. He ate silently, nodded, even occasionally grinned. His husband was the one in charge of the family. Victor merely guarded him, carried him in his arms, and glared menacingly at anyone who forgot that his dear husband was sacred. You called him "my little ice cube." And Victor knew that if there was anything in this world he would die for without a second thought, it wasn't power or money. It was the voice calling him home.