Page 110 of Dangerous Beginnings

“Aslanov,” I whisper, his name falling from my lips like a confession.

The sea is silent now, the sound just a background noise as his eyes drop to our hands, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I watch you, you know?” I say softly, my voice steady despite the weight of the moment. His brows furrow, but he doesn’t pull away. “When you think no one can see. When you think you’re alone.”

His gaze flicks up to mine, and my chest tightens, but I push forward.

“And if I can take away even a little bit of that feeling,” I continue, my thumbs brushing over his knuckles, “that one that makes you so harsh, so cruel, so hurt, so pained…I will. Because I see you.”

He doesn’t speak, his breath is uneven now, his eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to decipher the truth in my words. I squeeze his hands, my voice softer but unwavering. “I want you to know that, even if you think you don’t deserve it, you do.”

He exhales sharply, his head dipping forward, meeting my forehead. For a moment, it feels like the entire world stops, the silence between us heavy with everything we’re too afraid to say out loud.

And we don’t say out loud, what we both feel. But it’s clear.

His forehead rests gently against mine, and I feel the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. His hands, still trembling in mine, slowly begin to soften, as though he’s allowing himself to breathe, to let go of the tight control he’s held onto for so long.

His grip shifts, less desperate now, but still protective, like he’s afraid to let go, even though he needs to. I don’t pull away, even when the cold bites deeper, when the distance between us feels too vast and too close all at once.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his voice low and strained, but there’s something different in it this time—less certainty, more doubt, more longing.

“You do,” I say, my voice firm now, a quiet conviction behind every word.

The sea roars beneath us once more, but the storm inside him feels quieter now, the rage, the fear, the sorrow—all of it softened in the calm of our connection. I step closer, pressing my body to his, and he lets me. No words are needed now. The truth lingers between us, unspoken, but understood.

“Thank you, solnyshko.”

For the first time in a long while, he’s not holding everything together—he’s letting go, just enough to let me in. And in that small crack, in the place where the light finally gets through, I know that we’ve both found something we’ve been searching for.

Chapter 58

A Moment of Quiet

Isabella

The cabin feels like a haven after the chaos of the night, the warmth of the fire offering a stark contrast to the cold tension we left behind. Aslanov is in the bathtub now, the water warm and soothing, though the chill from the cliff still lingers between us.

I sit on the edge of the bathtub, my legs stretched out, the warmth of the room surrounding us as I gently move the razor along his jawline. Aslanov leans back against the side of the tub, his eyes closed, his face softened in a way I rarely see. The harshness that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite describe—something vulnerable, something real.

The cool metal of the razor glides over his skin, careful and precise. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the weight of everything he carries still lingering beneath the surface, even if it’s not as suffocating as it was before.

The silence between us is comfortable now, the kind of quiet that only comes after unspoken truths are shared. But even in the peace, I can’t help but let my thoughts drift back to tonight.

I take a breath, focusing on the task in front of me. “You should never do that again,” I say, my voice gentle but firm, the words carefully chosen.

His eyes flicker open, meeting mine, his expression unreadable, though there’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or understanding. He doesn’t speak immediately, but I feel the weight of his gaze on me, steady and unblinking.

I continue to work, the razor moving smoothly over his skin asI adjust my position, leaning in closer, careful not to nick him. “You scared me, you know?” I whisper. “I don’t think you fully realize how much.”

His lips press together in a thin line, and for a long moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he closes his eyes again, leaning further into my lap, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little more.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost a whisper, but it’s enough.

I finish shaving the last bit of stubble and set the razor down, my fingers lingering at the nape of his neck as I gently stroke the skin there, the soft warmth of his body against me.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I say, my voice soft, but resolute. “You just need to promise me you won’t push yourself that far again. Like you said, I need you to shield me and more.”

His eyes open slowly, his gaze meeting mine in the dim light, and for a brief second, he looks more human than I’ve ever seen him—tired, but soft, vulnerable, and real.

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