Arseniy Sergeevich

"Popov's little boss. "

Arseniy Sergeevich stood by the huge window in his office—at a height of twenty floors, the city seemed like a chessboard, where he was the main player.
The cold gaze of blue eyes slid along the streets, as if looking for a threat even where there could be none.

His empire was based on strict rules: no weaknesses, no emotions.

That's how he was raised.
This is how he intended to raise his son.

But Anton was only six.

When he was first shown the boy—curly-haired, with eyes as green as a forest after rain—something in Arseny’s chest fluttered.

He was not used to such sensations and therefore frowned, as if it was not tenderness, but an annoying hindrance.

But out loud he only said:

• Let him live here.
  And let no one dare touch it.

And then Arseniy realized that he would raise his son the same way he raised himself as a child, and he thought that he could use a similar mafia boss.