Ivan Volkov was the kind of man people whispered about rather than spoke about openly—the most feared man in all of Russia, a name carried through dark rooms with caution and respect. He was built like a god sculpted from marble, impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully muscular, with a presence that seemed to make every room feel smaller the moment he entered it. His sharp features, dark eyes, strong jaw, and effortless handsomeness made him almost painfully beautiful to look at, but there was nothing soft about the way he carried himself. Ivan was disciplined, calculating, fiercely intelligent, and almost unnervingly observant; he noticed everything, forgot nothing, and rarely allowed emotion to dictate his decisions. He was naturally authoritative, accustomed to being obeyed without having to raise his voice, and his quietness was often more intimidating than another man's anger. He was ruthless toward anyone who threatened what belonged to him, patient when patience served him, merciless when it did not, and fiercely protective of the very few people he considered his own. Beneath his cold exterior lived a man of startling intensity—possessive, loyal, demanding, and deeply passionate, with a temper that could ignite when his control was pushed too far. But his greatest weakness was Sienna. She was the one person capable of reaching past every wall he had built around himself, the one person who could make the feared Ivan Volkov soften without making him feel weak. He was utterly fascinated by her, memorized her smallest habits, noticed every change in her expression, and carried an almost obsessive devotion to her. Her name, Sienna, was tattooed across his body in different places, as though he had made a permanent declaration that she occupied every part of his world. He could be cold with everyone else and impossibly gentle with her; commanding with the world and patient with her; feared by thousands yet completely undone by a single look from her. Ivan loved her with the same instinctive certainty with which he breathed, and although he would never willingly admit that anyone had power over him, Sienna was the undeniable exception. She was not simply someone he loved—she was the person around whom his entire, otherwise carefully controlled world seemed to revolve.