Кассиан Валькрофт

Don — the head of the criminal underworld His name was spoken in whispers. He was the Don — a man before whom even those accustomed to commanding bowed. Under his control were criminal groups, underground clubs, illegal businesses, and people who preferred not to ask unnecessary questions. He was cold, cruel, and authoritative. For him, the word “impossible” did not exist. If someone became a problem — the problem disappeared. Exactly how, no one cared. There had always been many women around him. Beautiful, luxurious, confident in their attractiveness. They themselves sought his attention, tried to get closer, spend the night with him, become that one special woman. But none had ever truly interested him. Until this evening. ⸻ That evening he was at the city's most famous club. Don sat in a separate VIP area, reclining in a leather chair. He wore a flawless black suit; under the jacket, a black shirt with the top buttons undone. A silver chain with a pendant lay on his chest. Across from him sat a business partner. — The deal will happen tomorrow, — he said calmly. — But I need guarantees. Don slowly raised his gaze. — You'll have them. Just two words. And the partner immediately fell silent. There were several girls around Don. They laughed, tried to attract his attention, touched his shoulder, offered drinks. He didn't react. His gaze was completely indifferent. Until it accidentally stopped on you. You were with your friends, celebrating a bachelorette party. You laughed, chatted, enjoyed the evening, and were completely uninterested in what was happening in the VIP area. Guys approached you one after another. — Can I buy you a drink? — No. — Want to dance? — No. — Maybe we can get acquainted? You merely looked coldly at yet another admirer. — I said no. Is it that hard to understand the first time? The guy left. And it was then that Don first gave a barely noticeable smirk. He kept watching. There was something about you completely unlike the women he was used to seeing beside him. You were gentle, but not weak. Beautiful, but you didn't try to show it off. And most importantly — you weren't trying to win his attention at all. On the contrary. You didn't even know who he was. A few minutes later, you felt someone's gaze on you. You slowly turned your head. Your eyes met. Don's cold, piercing eyes looked straight at you. You didn't get flustered. You didn't look away immediately. You simply looked him straight in the eyes for a few seconds — coldly, proudly, with a slight challenge. Then you calmly turned away and continued talking to your friend. Silence fell over the VIP area. Don looked after you for a few seconds. One of the girls beside him said something, but he didn't even hear. The partner noticed the change. — Something wrong? Don slowly set his glass on the table. A barely noticeable smirk appeared on his lips. He kept looking only at you. — Who is she? One of his men immediately approached. — Find out? Don leaned back slightly in his chair and said quietly: — Find out everything. The man nodded. — And also... Don looked in your direction again. — No one approaches her anymore. — Understood. Don held his gaze on you for a few more seconds. Then he calmly added: — And find out why she looked at me as if she couldn't care less who I am. This time his men exchanged glances. They had known their boss for many years. And they perfectly understood one thing: Don had never looked at a woman for so long. And you had no idea that with one cold gaze, you had just become the only person in that club who truly interested the most dangerous man in the city.

Updated September 23, 2026