Page 55 of Dangerous Beginnings

The clock ticks towards 1 p.m. Two of my men who have also been in New York arrive. Their names are not important, blood bound by loyalty. It’s now 1 p.m., exactly. I pull the hood over my face, making me blend into the people. My men walking behind me towards their car, will be accompanying me back home. My black slim jacket covers my broad shoulders as I check my gun in the back of my belt.

My car awaits, a sleek black figure amid the bustling city. The weight of my responsibilities pulls me toward the vehicle, each step echoing the echoes of decisions made and paths chosen.

Just as I reach for the car door handle, a voice, soft and hesitant, pierces through the ambient noise.

“Aslanov.”

My name hangs in the air, and I still. Nobody not from business knows my name, nor would dare run it across their lips in the middle of the street.

It’s her voice, a timbre that cuts through the noise of the city, an unexpected melody amid chaos. Slowly, I turn to find Isabella standing there, uncertainty etched across her face. Her presence, unexpected and profound, lingers in the air like a promise unspoken. In that moment, the bustling streets, the looming shadows, and the weight of my world fade into the background.

She chose to come.

The air thickens with unspoken words as she approaches, her gaze locking onto mine. Time seems to stretch, elongating themoment where our worlds collide. The crowded streets of New York fade away, leaving only the two of us in a suspended reality. Isabella’s steps are deliberate, each one echoing the weight of her decision. I watch as she closes the distance, her eyes holding a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.

As Isabella approaches, her determination evident in every step, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. She thinks she’s making a choice, but in reality, she’s merely playing into my hands. And now that she’s here, there’s no turning back.

The city becomes a mere backdrop to the pivotal exchange transpiring between us. As Isabella reaches me, the space between us crackles with unspoken tension. Immediately I sense something is wrong. Her voice, a whisper in the urban symphony, breaks the silence.

“They know about us.” A wave of complex emotions washes over me—a blend of responsibility, protectiveness, and, against all odds, a flicker of something deeper. Leaning in, I lock eyes with her, a seriousness underlying my words.

“About what Isabella?” I asked, demanding more information. The weight of my question lingers in the air. She bites her lip. Her freckles are very visible in this light, and so are her bruises and cuts.

“My boss—he, he came to my apartment.” She looks panicked. She starts looking around like someone is watching us.

And not long after that, I notice the hidden people in the crowd. My reflexes kick in, knowing I can be arrested on this ground only if they have evidence against me, and they don’t,not yet.I’m afraid I’ll have to kill the witnesses. We need to get to Russia; I control most authorities there.

I snap my fingers in her panicked face, “Isabella, eyes on mesweetheart.” She stills while staring straight at me. Realization sets in that she is betraying the law here, and I think she is realizing that too. They are watching her, they probablythreatened her.Meaning her fear of me is greater.A smirk plays on my lips, my obedient girl. I’m going to return her favor. Even though she won’t enjoy this right now. After this she ismine.

“Are they watching us?”

She nods ever so slightly, her face is faced away from them. They have a vision of me. I don’t need her to tell me what they demand from her, one could simply guess. She’s chosen to step into my world, to embrace the darkness that surrounds me. Because of that, there’s a part of me that can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards her. Despite the darkness that surrounds me, there’s a part of me that wants to keep her safe, to shield her from harm. To consume her in light instead of dark. She has proven herself worthy of the honor, mysolnyshkohas made a good decision.

The moment hangs heavy with tension as I take decisive action. With a subtle nod to my associate, he moves swiftly to execute my command. He walks towards the building behind us. Two cops hid behind a big white truck parked in front of it. With the silencer on the gun, he effectively executes the two men. Isabella’s face watches in horror.

I swiftly walk over to the building. Blending into the busy crowd around us as she tries to keep up with my pace. I make my way inside, turn the corner, and walk upstairs. My associate signals me where he is seated. I turn one more time to the left near a big window meeting with her boss, Trevor. The biggest scumbag I have ever seen. I would like to feed his balls to the pigs. Isabella stands behind me, frozen, at a safe distance. He’s not very good at beingundercover.

I close the distance between us, rather he backs away. “Who the fuck are you?!” he yells at me as he realizes he is backing up against the wall. “Do you work with the Russians?!” A smirk plays on my lips, I thought he had it all figured out, guess not.

I thought that was why he threatened Isabella, yet he doesn’tknow I’m the head of the organization itself. My associates move into the spaces near us, eliminating everyone who has seen me or who works for the police.

“Do you enjoy inflicting threats on your workers?” My Russian accent fills the room and Trevor glances behind me, at her. He wants to sneer and yell at her but before he gets the chance to even approach her, I close the distance between them with me in the middle. One of my associates nods at me from the doorway, he has successfully managed to accomplish his job. I point at the frightened girl behind me. I will spare her this sight.

He grabs onto her upper arm and escorts her out of the room while she sets up a small fight and tries to turn her head back multiple times. After ensuring she is in the car by looking out the window I turn my attention back tohim.

My plane leaves soon and even though I would love to switch some words with him, he is a useless idiot. Keeping him hostage will not bring me anything but a headache, so I’m not left with many other options. He is reaching for his gun as I knock him down with one swift swing of my fist. I kicked his gun to the other corner of the room. “You motherfucker!”

I lift my boot and kick him in his face, and when his nose starts bleeding I do it again until his eyesight becomes red with blood. “You were so close Trevor, but now…” I bend down to his level, “…you have seen my face. And therefore, you must die.” I state calmly. His eyes change from anger to panic and something more as he realizes who I am. Even before his protest can begin, I get the gun from my waistband and shoot him straight through the head. His body falls limp to the floor. A little droplet of blood stains my white blouse. I wipe it off, causing it to leave a stain. How unfortunate.

I make my way out of the now-empty building and get to the car where she sits with eyes filled with horror. I open the door and pull her out, walking her over to my car. As Iposition Isabella into my car, my demeanor remains cold and detached, a mask of indifference hiding the turmoil within. Her confusion and panic are like fuel to the fire, igniting a feeling of regret. Ignoring her protests, I roughly slam the door shut. “Stop fighting,” I command as I enter the driver’s seat, my voice devoid of emotion as I force her inside. Despite her panicked pleas, I show no sign of remorse, no hint of empathy for the fear that grips her. Instead, I maintain my facade of indifference, my actions calculated to maintain control over the situation. Despite my display of cold indifference, a part of me softens at the sight of her distress.

For now, all I can do is continue with my plan, knowing that in the end, she’ll come to understand the necessity of my actions, or not. We need to get going and she needs to rest. She especially needs to get out of this distressed state.

Isabella

The black car glides through the streets. The atmosphere changes and panic settles in. The other car follows us. Everything feels off. Panicked breaths fill my throat. What have I done? What the fuck is wrong with me? The tension inside the car becomes a thick fog of anticipation and uncertainty. I see the stains on his blouse. The hum of the engine becomes a background melody as the car maneuvers through the streets, weaving through the wooden tapestry.

He glances at me, his gaze piercing and commanding, before focusing back on the road ahead. The city lights streak past, a blur of motion and possibility. The man next to me casually killed a man, not seeming to be bothered by it in the slightest. Weight presses down on me. What if he has other plans to do with me? What if I made a stupid mistake? What if he has deceived me and now can do whatever he wants to me? I’m drowning in thoughts.

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