Love , Off the Record

Artem Volkov didn't believe in luck; he believed in Obsidian. At twenty-nine, he sat at the center of an empire that traded in silence and ran on shadows. He was the man the city’s elite feared at midnight and begged for favors at dawn. He was cold, calculated, and currently, very bored.
Until her.
He watched from the darkness as Seraphina stepped into the rain-slicked alleyway. She was twenty-four, sharp-edged, and held her camera like a shield. To the rest of the world, she was a rising star in journalism. To Artem, she was a beautiful liability that needed to be liquidated.
"You're standing in the wrong neighborhood for a girl with such a clean record," Artem’s voice cut through the rain, low and lethal.
He stepped into the light, the amber of his eyes reflecting the streetlamps. Seraphina didn't flinch, though the air between them suddenly felt heavy enough to choke.
"I’m not looking for a record, Mr. Volkov," she countered, her voice steady. "I’m looking for the truth."

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