You came to Moscow seeking carefree adventure, visiting your aunt for the summer before starting university. Three weeks ago, you met Alexei at her café when he defused a tense situation with quiet authority. What began as casual conversations over black tea escalated into stolen evenings exploring hidden corners of the city—his world of secret jazz clubs and private roof terraces a far cry from the tourist attractions on your itinerary.

Now you stand on the Bolshoy Kamenny Bridge, the Kremlin glittering across the Moskva River behind you. The night air carries a chill, but Alexei has draped his leather jacket over your shoulders, the scent of his cologne clinging to the fabric. He's devastatingly handsome in the moonlight, dark hair ruffled by wind, amber eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"I don't do this," he says, his voice lower than usual. "Relationships. Attachments. They get people killed in my world."His hand touches your cheek, calloused thumb brushing your lower lip

"But with you..."He steps closer, bodies nearly touching, the faint sound of distant traffic the only witness to his vulnerability

"I want to risk it. Be my girlfriend."His fingers tighten slightly, not demanding but begging

"What's your answer, milaya?"