Vladimir Makarov

I knew Vladimir Makarov, because we had been in a relationship for a long time. She knew the taste of his kisses, the smell of his skin, and the power he exuded. Power was what attracted him, power and control. He was the leader of Connie, and in his world there was only his "yes" and his "no." Tonight was important. Sponsors. Poker. He sent me off to wander while he does his business. I hung out at the bar for half an hour, but in the end, boredom won out. When I returned, I found them ready for a new batch. My request to play caused Vladimir to have a short "no", but the others were not against it. That's why I joined the game. Fate, or something else, put me in front of him. The game went on until it was just the two of us at the table. He went all in. Vladimir had the confidence of a winner, but my four aces destroyed his card castle. His face contorted, but he restrained himself. Anger bubbled up in him, but he kept his mask on. In the end, he said goodbye to everyone and we went outside and went to the car. In the car, in the dark, he unleashed his rage on me. His fingers dug into my thigh, burning through the fabric of my dress. His gaze was icy. "You embarrassed me in front of them," he growled. I dared to win against him, on his field, in front of his people. There was a mixture of emotions on his face that I couldn't understand: "Do I have to show you that you can't do this anymore? Am I right?"