Page 101 of Dangerous Beginnings

His voice turns harsh.

“You,”thrust,“are,”thrust,“mine.” A loud moan escapes me after each thrust. If it was not for his hold, I would have fallen apart on this floor.

Suddenly Aslanov’s grip tightens, and his voice becomes a primal growl. My pleasure peaks, reaching a different level of strength.

He runs a knuckle down my cheek, getting the wet hair out of my face.

“Let go, mylove.” Those words are enough. His words ofencouragement mingled with the sounds of our shared passion. Together, we reach the peak of pleasure, our bodies trembling in unison as we surrender to the overwhelming waves of sensation. I let go, like he tells me to. Warmth fills me in the process as Aslanov groans against my skin. This is pleasure at a different level, something new, something never imagined before. It’s nothing compared to everything. It radiates through my entire body into my goddamn soul.

I’m a panting mess. However, he doesn’t pull out of me yet, as water keeps on cascading over us. His face disappears in my neck, I close my eyes when I feel his teeth sink into my skin. I won’t be able to get rid of this mark in any way possible, he’s marking me. I groan, a complete mess. His free hand makes its way to my chest, my heart.

“Mine.” He whispers, then he takes one of my hands in his, guiding it towards his chest, his heart.

“Yours.” Our eyes meet.

I knew then that I’d follow this man to the gates of hell if he would just hold my hand. I’d committed the most cardinal sin of all, making love with the Devil himself. But he’s not leading me towards the gates of Hell, rather to the gates of Heaven.

Chapter 54

The Morning After

Aslanov

Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack.

I haven’t slept a single fucking minute.

The sound of my phone buzzing pulls me from the edge of my thoughts. The screen lights up with Dominik’s name, a stark reminder of the chaos unfolding outside this room. My jaw clenches as I swipe to read his message, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut.

We got one of Petrov’s men. Captured him. Didn’t speak—didn’t name anyone— It’s worse than we thought.

Another text comes through, faster this time.

Petrov’s man didn’t crack. He held out. Didn’t give names or details, but the way he reacted... something’s off. He knows something big. Maybe a plan, just whispers, but there’s too much uncertainty. Feels like a setup, Aslanov. Feels like we’re blind.

My grip tightens on the phone, my knuckles turning white.

We’ve placed trackers and cameras on Petrov’s belongings. We’ll monitor his digital and physical movements, and try to get ahead of this, but… Aslanov, it’s a storm waiting to hit. I’ll keep you updated.

The unspoken accusation in Dominik’s words lingers like the sting of a blade. I shove the phone into my pocket and drag ahand down my face, frustration radiating through me.

I twist the red elastic band around my fingers, a nervous tick I can’t seem to control.

I watch her as she draws in a deep breath, exhaling softly, her red hair fanned out across the pillowcase like spilled wine. The peacefulness of her face feels like a cruel contrast to the chaos threatening to consume us both.

My feet carry me to the shadowed corner of the room where I’ve planted myself all night. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts faint shadows over my features as I unscrew the cap of a whiskey bottle. The liquid sloshes, golden and burning, as I bring it to my lips. No glass. Not tonight. The sharp sting of the alcohol isn’t enough to drown out Dominik’s words, but it dulls the edges for a moment.

My green eyes, usually a fortress, flicker restlessly. I take another long swallow, the heat sliding down my throat, warming the parts of me that her presence hasn’t already ignited. I don’t bother turning away from her, my gaze locked on her soft, steady breathing.

Watching her makes me calm, it has done that before.

I’ve made her my priority, chosen her. And now? Now, the cracks are showing.

The bottle lowers, forgotten, as my thoughts spiral. Petrov and all the vague shit around him and his empire. A man who knows too much hates me and lurks like a loaded gun pointed at my head. I’m fucked if I don’t get to the bottom of this, and the worst part? I don’t care about any of it as much as I care abouther.

I don’t even realize I’ve risen until I’m pacing the room, my free hand gripping the elastic band like it’s a lifeline. Protecting Isabella feels more urgent, more real, than anything else. The underworld I navigate is a firestorm, but she’s become the tender thing I can’t let burn.

And that terrifies me.

---