Novels by Ihuu

Vasily PovThe days since he left have been a black fog. I've spent the days buried in my office, the familiar scent of old leather and power a hollow comfort. The city of Moscow, my city, sprawls below, and I feel nothing but a cold, hollow rage. Adrian Volkov. His name is a poison on my tongue, a constant, buzzing sound in my brain. I see him everywhere, in the blank faces of my guards, in the polished steel of my desk, in the reflection of the city lights in my window. He is a ghost I can’t exorcise, a mark I can’t scrub clean."The men are ready for your orders, Don," my consigliere, Nikolai, says, his voice cutting through my thoughts.I turn from the window, my gaze sweeping over him. Nikolai is a rock, a man I can always trust. He is a part of me, a part of this organization. But right now, I feel like a stranger in my own skin."Send them away," I order, my voice a low, gravelly rasp. "I have no patience for incompetence today."Nikolai doesn’t question me. He simply nods,

Adrian PovWe arrive at the Petrov penthouse, a building that stands tall and cold against the Moscow skyline. It is a display of power, of wealth, to the man who rules it all. The elevator ride up is slow. The air is still, silent. The doors open, and I am in his world.The penthouse is all polished concrete, steel, and glass. There are no personal touches, no warmth. The guards are a silent, intimidating presence. I am led to the living room, and there he is.Vasily Petrov stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me. The morning light frames his broad shoulders, his dark hair, the rigid line of his spine. I stand there, frozen, waiting for him to turn. And when he does, his eyes, so cold and black, are a physical blow. There is no trace of the man I was with last night, no hint of the raw, dangerous passion.He gestures to a chair, an ornate, uncomfortable-looking thing. “Sit.”I shake my head. “I’ll stand.”He looks at me for a long moment, a flicker of something,

Adrian PovThe sun is sharp, slipping through the blinds, and the light on my face is a physical ache. I groan, burying my face deeper into the couch cushion. The scent of my living room, the familiar smell of old books and leather, is a small comfort, but it's not enough to push back my thoughts. My phone buzzes, I flinch, my entire body tensing. It’s been twelve hours since I fled Vasily’s suite, and I haven't looked at a single message. The thought of it makes my stomach clench.Just as I work up the nerve to reach for it, the front door buzzes. Once. Then twice. It’s a familiar rhythm. I don’t even have to look at the security feed to know it’s Leo. He's the only person who can walk into my life without a formal invitation. He's my safe harbor, the one person in my world who knows the real me.I stumble to the door, my body still protesting every movement. I open it, and Leo takes one look at me and his calm demeanor drops away. His eyes, usually full of easy warmth, are wide

The noise from the club pounds through my chest, a physical assault on my carefully constructed calm. This club is a place I own but never visit, the air is thick with the scent of spilled liquor and cheap perfume. I am bored. I sit in a private booth, a half-empty glass of scotch in my hand. Strippers dance on poles. My friends, Dmitri and Sergei, are on either side of me, shouting over the music.Dmitri, a man of precise movements and a cunning smile leans in. His tailored suit fits his lean, dangerous frame perfectly. He is the type of person who thinks five steps ahead. Sergei, on the other hand, is a jovial soul but God bless those that mess with him. His laughter is wild and it cuts through the music, his body a solid wall of muscle and brute force. He moves recklessly. And there is Nikolaï, my consigliere, my right hand. Usually, he is a man of quiet observation, his face always calm. But tonight, the alcohol has stripped away his usual restraint. He is laughing too loudly

The scent of my cigarette fills the air, as it is the only thing I allow myself to enjoy. Across the desk, the contract sits there.Across the table sat Valerius Volkov and his right-hand man, his eyes darting around the room. They are nothing more than insects, a nuisance that has to be dealt with to secure a larger objective. I would rather settle with a bullet than a signature, but I have to be rational."My daughter is agreeable to the terms," Valerius says, his voice a low rumble. He doesn't even have the decency to sound proud. "She is already looking forward to a life with a man of your stature."I take a long drag from the cigarette, the bitter smoke filling my lungs. “My lawyers will review every clause before I sign anything. As for the wedding, a small ceremony with a few witnesses is all that is required.”"And the reception will be a celebration for all of Moscow to see. The Petrov and Volkov families joined as one." Valerius adds, a thin smile on his lips. "I don’t care