Page 3 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)
This was like a play, and I was sitting in the audience, watching the events unfold as if I had no control over my own reality.
Fuck me, this man was beautiful. Not handsome, not hot, no, that wasn’t enough—he was beautiful .
His dark chestnut hair was wavy and styled back—relaxed—like he was on vacation.
His cheekbones high, and his jaw sharp, those plump, pink lips were stretched out in a genuine smile, and his eyes were on me, like I was a target and he was a sniper.
His eyes . His eyes were green, pure, focused, and deceivingly comforting. His body was huge and powerful and was erasing the distance between us with every passing second.
“Hello.”
That voice. Deep, smooth like velvet, each sound wrapped around me with ease.
This year marked my seventh year as a broker—I didn’t get intimidated anymore.
I didn’t get scared or feel uncomfortable.
But the way his eyes assessed me, the way he devoured every detail of my appearance, stirred unknown turmoil inside me.
Somehow, he was even more mesmerizing up close, and I caught myself staring.
“Hello. I’m the listing broker; welcome.
” I spewed out my practiced script with my usual fake smile, but neither he nor I blinked, caught in some dystopian battle of glances.
Seconds passed. Too many seconds for this to be considered a regular pause in conversation.
Why couldn’t I look away from this stranger?
I was tall—five feet and a whole ten inches—but I was dwarfed by him, probably a few centimeters short of two meters.
His height and size were intimidating, undoubtedly, but it was the way he looked at me that left me truly breathless.
Like he was waiting for something—for me to clue into who he was, or maybe for me to rip my eyes away from him.
But my eyes were glued to his pure jade ones; I'd never seen anyone have that eye color before.
This man caught my attention with alarming intensity, and I finally blinked, realizing I was looking him over like he was some sort of museum exhibit.
"It's an open house, yes?" He prompted me with a small smile, noticing that I turned into a statue in front of him.
"Yes!" Ari loudly piped up beside me, but the man didn’t take his eyes off me, shaking Ari's hand without any dedication.
"Great. I'm looking for an apartment and a broker. Are you accepting new clients, Mia?"
What a turn of events. Two things were true. I had no idea how this man knew my name, and that made me borderline uncomfortable, and suddenly, I was intensely curious to find out what working with him would be like.
"You don’t have a broker?" Ari's voice sounded in the vicinity, but this man and I were still locked in a vortex, just us two, saying everything with our eyes but understanding nothing.
"No," he responded without emotion. What was that accent? "Can you show me this place? My name is Kirill, by the way." As if on cue, his gaze morphed into purehearted kindness, and his eyes sparkled in the afternoon light.
Eyes couldn’t really sparkle, could they? But his did. My throat was parched for an unknown reason, and I opened my mouth to respond, but a low voice interrupted this already chaotic moment.
"Kirill?" It was that mysterious woman who walked away with Ari a little while ago.
Her hair ended right above her shoulders, and her sharp glare and deep, red lipstick added to her ruthless aura.
"This place too small, I think." Her thick accent informed the man who I now knew as Kirill.
She missed a word, and she sounded Russian—just like his name.
Oh. Of course. They were together. My cheeks blazed when I understood that I was almost literally drooling over a man who was taken. In a second, I put on my mask of professionalism, ignoring the sinking feeling inside my stomach.
"Maybe," Kirill responded to her without taking his eyes off me. "But I still want to look around. Show me?"
It was time to snap the fuck out of it. Thank God I lived in the no-fuck zone—didn’t need to worry about this Greek God who was married or in a relationship or something. Whatever, I didn’t care.
"Sure, I'd love to show you and your partner around. Nice to meet you." The woman and I shook hands, neither one of us genuine about the interaction.
“I saw already. You go." She waved us off and turned to Ari to ask him for a glass of water.
Just us two then. Me and Kirill, the man who had a woman.
No longer high on the interaction, I strolled around the luxurious apartment with soft lines and expensive finishes and blabbered on with the memorized information about the unit. This man took my damn breath away, knocking all sense out of my head.
A married man. Was I surprised that the first man to catch my eye in years was in a relationship? It didn’t matter, I drilled into my head. No-fuck zone, remember? So liberating.
We stepped into the main bedroom, the New York City view breathtaking behind the wall of windows, and Kirill suddenly interjected into my practiced script. "That woman is not my wife, just so you know."
A wave of relief washed over me, but I dismissed it, harshly shutting down all feelings. “Okay," I responded simply. “Great,” I added for an unknown reason while trying to fill the silence.
"I want you to know," he continued with meaning but faced away and stepped toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
Did he want me to know he was single? "I'm looking for an apartment for myself. My friend says it’s too small; what do you think?
" Okay, yes, this was important information for the transaction and not his relationship status. As if I cared about that.
"She thinks this four bedroom, five bathroom apartment with a pool on a sprawling terrace overlooking the city is too small for you?" I wanted to make her sound stupid. For some reason, I hated her. In fact, all reason and logic flew out of my head when I first looked into those green eyes.
Kirill’s chuckle rumbled low, followed by an easy shrug. “Is it? What do you think, Mia? Would you live in an apartment like this?"
“It’s beautiful. This is truly a special place.” That much was obvious to a blind man. But I wasn’t blind—I noticed the Stefano Ricci shoes and the Rolex on his thick, tanned wrist. Besides that, his style was understated, his clothes simple yet impeccably made.
“Yeah? But for two people, you think it's large enough?
" Kirill sauntered closer, and on instinct, I slightly leaned back.
It was like his presence shrunk the room, sucking all the air out.
Hands buried in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, he spoke as if this was some mindless purchase.
Who the hell was this man, and how did he end up here?
“Yes.” I became strangely laconic, and words escaped me every time his eyes looked into mine.
"So will you work with me?"
Yes, I was really hoping to see him again, but the fact that he wanted to work with me so suddenly, without knowing anything about me, just off the street, made me uneasy.
“Um, well, I can't really answer that question.
I mean, I– I don't know anything about you, what you're looking for, or what your affordability is.
" Goddamn, since when did I stumble over my own words?
His smirk grew wider. "No problem. I'll come to your office tomorrow. Ten in the morning. And you can question me then."
The dynamic between us changed within a second. As if storm clouds appeared on the horizon, it felt darker, quieter, and more dangerous.
I wasn’t an idiot. I could recognize that look of lust and desire from a mile away. Slowly, taking pleasure in our little private moment, Kirill enjoyed the sight of me in front of him.
Something about him both drew me to him and made me slightly terrified. He was so well put together, but there was a secret behind those green eyes. He radiated power and dominance, easily setting up a meeting with me within a few minutes.
"I–" For the first time in a very long time, I was speechless. How did he manipulate me like this? I could have declined and risked never seeing him again or accepted as if I had nothing better to do than wait for him first thing tomorrow morning.
"I have your card," he said, deciding that was the end of the conversation. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He’d already stepped back, about to turn away when I finally blurted out, "Wait! I– I’m busy tomorrow morning.
" Fucking finally. I took back some control even though that was a lie.
As if his interest was piqued, he slightly raised his eyebrows.
"I'm sorry, how did you get into this open house?” I should have opened up with that question. There was a young agent checking everyone in, and Kirill wasn’t on the list of pre-qualified clients.
"I rent in the building, and I thought that perhaps, since you have a listing here, you might be able to help me?" The words fell off his tongue so smoothly. Fuck, this guy had an answer for everything, didn’t he, answering my next question without even letting me ask it.
“So? Can you help me, Mia?"
It was now or never; I had to make a decision about this drop-dead gorgeous stranger. Did I trust him? Did I trust myself?
"Yes. I can help you." Five simple words. I had made the decision.
"That's great. Eleven?” He proposed a new time, and I simply nodded, forgetting that I said I was busy tomorrow morning. “That’s perfect. See you then, Mia.” The way my name kept falling off his lips made me want to hear it again and again.
Kirill turned away and walked out of the bedroom like he hadn’t just rewired my brain in under ten minutes. The sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence still lingered—in the air, on my skin, in the way my pulse refused to settle.
I exhaled. What the fuck just happened?