Page 58 of Dangerous Beginnings

He steps back, his presence retreating slightly, but the weight of his words lingers, hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The threat is clear, unspoken but understood. The next time I defy him, the consequences will be severe, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to withstand them.

I’m caught in a web of fear and fascination, trapped by the darkness he’s woven around me. There’s no escape, no way out but through, and as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me is drawn to him, to the power he holds over me. It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, and I’m not sure I’ll survive it with my soul intact.

I don’t think I have ever blushed more in my life than I do now. And something in me wants to see that beast inside of him, something in me wants to provoke him. Because every time I provoke him and he closes in on me, I feel something in my stomach—perhaps my womanhood too. Honestly, this whole situation is fucked.

His words make my stomach flutter and form an arousal within me. It shouldn’t. But I know better and so should I behave. I don’t know what will happen once we land or where we will go. I can’t answer anything. My mouth doesn’t comply. I’m scared of what’s going to come out of my mouth when I do answer. My mind races back to Ada’s words, ‘He possesses a rare form of charisma, he’s manipulative.’

He sure has, especially with me. I’m an easy prey for him. “Use your manners. When somebody speaks to you, you look at them.” I swallow my stomach acid down as my eyes slowly linger up to him. He is going to be the death of me.

“If you’ll do as I say, you’ll be rewarded.” Heat forms in the pits of my stomach.Rewarded. He knows I have a praise kink. He’s manipulating me.

“Maybe I’ll reduce your punishment.” He stares me up anddown. “Maybe not, either way, you better start behaving.”

“Yes,” my voice comes out barely audible. I want to look anywhere other than his eyes, but his command pulls me in and I’m afraid if I look away I will already be punished for it. He puts on his ink-black coat, and while he does so I get a small glimpse of his back and theguntucked into his belt.

“You’re not talking, only when spoken to. Most of you won’t understand anyway.” He gets up and walks to the front, talking to the cabin crew. My hands start to get a little sweaty as we are coming closer to arrival with every minute.

“Understood?” he suddenly comments from behind me. He puts on a black jacket with a soft inside over my shoulders. I bet it’s expensive. He zips it up, and after zipping it up all the way his middle finger reaches under my chin. Giving it a gentle stroke, “Yes, I understand.” He’s playing with me and it’s drawing me in. He gathers my boots and starts putting them on, tying the laces together. My heart beats in my chest for what I am about to land on.

I sit there, trying to stay still, trying to behave as he ordered. I have already misbehaved enough; I yearn for his praise rather than punishment. The thought of his praise feels like a distant, unreachable goal. The plane begins its final descent, my heart still pounding. I have never been to Russia before. He moves with a measured calm, his gaze scanning over me with a critical eye. His attention settles on the bruises scattered across my face, then to the cut on my eyebrow. Then his eyes shift downward, first at my chest then taking in the sight of the tight binding of my wrists.

Without a word, he reaches into the bag on the table, pulling out a fresh tube of gel. He crouches down in front of me, his presence oddly comforting. The cool gel glistens as he applies it to my bruises, his touch light and careful. After several minutes, he stops, his gaze lingering on me. I manage to crack a smallsmile.

With a sigh, his fingers reach for the silk rope, untying my wrists. The rope falls away slowly, and an intimate relief fills me. Once he finishes, he straightens up, his gaze on mine. I rub my wrists slowly while keeping my gaze on him.

“Behave yourself,” he murmurs, “I don’t want to have to keep you caged.”

Chapter 35

It Is Fitting

Isabella

The plane has landed and as I peek through the window, the only thing I see is snow, a thick layer of snow, everywhere. Aslanov pushes me in front of him as the door of the plane opens, I freeze. His hot breath comes close next to my ear. “Behave.” His voice sends shivers down my spine as I swallow my nerves down.

He guides me out of the plane by my back and upper arm. There are several men dressed in all black next to a black car waiting, an entire line.

They bow their heads, not looking at the man directly behind me. Just one doesn’t lower his gaze, he looks a bit like Aslanov, and I immediately assume that he must be family. He nods in our direction and I can feel his eyes burn on me as my boots crack in the snow, making my way down the stairs out of the warm comfort of the jet. It’s freezing here. His hands reach down my back as he inches me forward.

“Dominik,” Aslanov’s voice almost makes me flinch. He towers over me and shakes the man’s hand, patting him on the shoulder while mumbling some Russian words. Aslanov’s words ring through my head:‘Do not speak unless you are spoken to, behave.’This Dominik looks down on me as Aslanov parts his way from me carrying our bags to the car and greeting the other man with a simple nod. They all stand in a perfect line, hands folded, gaze lowered. The smell of respect lingers in the air. I’m now sure Dominik means something to him.

I slowly pull my eyes up to meet Dominik, he is staring at me like he is looking at the most extraordinary bird speciesor something. I offer him a tiny smile, and to my surprise, he smiles back. He gets out a phone as I watch him. I feel guilty for engaging with him, that’s not what I was ordered to do. But I haven’t spoken. He starts typing and after a while, he shows me the screen.

Vy Izabella?

I see my name, but I don’t know what he means so I whisper, “I-I don’t speak Russian.” He nods at my statement while typing again.

I asked if you were Isabella.

I stare at the screen and nod at him. How does he know my name? Why isn’t he speaking?

“Can’t you talk?” And as always my curiosity gets the best of me. He stares down at me; he’s also way older than me. He shakes his head, typing again.

I lost my tongue.

I stare at him in disbelief, he points behind me, and as I turn around, I see Aslanov on his back. My eyes widened, “did he cut out your tongue?” Dominik starts laughing while shaking his head.

No, he was the one who saved me after the accident. I’m his cousin.

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