Page 69 of Dangerous Beginnings

And then, I see him.

There he is, the tallest man in the room, commanding attention without even trying. The sight of him sends a jolt through me, the memories of last night momentarily fading away. But something is off. My eyes fix on him, noting the familiar outfit, the way his hair is cut shorter, more severe. It’s the same look he had when he held me captive in that cell, the same cold, calculated demeanor.

Nausea swirls in my stomach as I try to reconcile the man before me with the one who once shared his bed with me. He hasn’t noticed me yet, nor has anyone else, and for a moment, I’m grateful. I have a clear view of him from where I stand at the base of the stairs. He’s at the head of the wooden table, surrounded by men who seem to hang on his every word.

But then, something catches my eye—a small, seeminglyinsignificant detail that sends a shiver down my spine. Wrapped around his wrist, just behind his Rolex, is a red hair elastic. My elastic. The one I left behind in his bedroom after our…encounter.

The tattoos on his neck rise above the collar of his black blouse, his body coiled with tension. I watch as the man who had been staring at me earlier takes his place at the table, his intense blue eyes leaving a lingering unease in their wake.

I shift uncomfortably, every instinct telling me I don’t belong here. Sasha is nowhere to be seen, and I’m certain my presence is not wanted. Aslanov’s head turns toward me, his gaze locking onto mine. I freeze, offering a small, uncertain smile, a timid wave. His response is nothing but a darkening of his eyes, a silent dismissal as he turns back to the table. I feel like a fool.

A wave of anxiety crashes over me, a slow realization that the connection I thought I felt with him was nothing more than a cruel illusion. He sees me as nothing more than a plaything, a pawn in whatever twisted game he’s playing. The memory of our kiss, the one I foolishly believed meant something, now feels like a betrayal. My first kiss—stolen by a man who views me as nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded.

My heart sinks as I take in the room, the sight of several women seated around the table, their heads bowed, their expressions vacant. They’re dressed up, dolled up like prizes to be paraded around, but there’s no life in their eyes, no individuality. It’s as if their beauty has been weaponized against them, a means of control and submission.

And then it hits me—I’m just like them.

The dress, the makeup, the way I’ve been presented to this room full of criminals—it’s all part of the same twisted game. The anger that rises within me is almost as strong as the fear, a burning need to defy the role they’ve cast me in.

The room stills as attention turns toward us, and I realize toolate that I’ve underestimated the man at the head of the table. The image of him in the prison, the cold, ruthless killer who could end a life without blinking, is suddenly all too real again.

I’ve played with fire, and now I’m standing in the flames.

If you play with the Devil, you’ll end up in Hell.

Chapter 42

The Truth

Isabella

As I stand in front of him, my gaze flickers to Dominik at the side of the room, shaking his head at me with a mixture of warning and resignation. A surge of boiling rage courses through my veins as I begin to understand that whatever is going on is a sick and twisted phenomenon.

Suddenly, Aslanov’s finger curls towards me, and I feel the tension in the room grow palpably. With each step closer to him, my frustration mounts, but as I catch sight of my hair tie wrapped around his wrist, I pray that this what is happening isn’t real. It must be fake.

Why are all these people here? And these women? What the fuck is going on. My brains crack and as I cannot seem to understand what’s happening, I can understand one thing; as much as I hate it; I’ll have to comply.

Aslanov is a dangerous man, even after what happened. But besides that, the whole room is filled with people who aren’t known for their charity either. So, as he sits down again on his dark throne and nods to the floor there is just one option: submerge myself to the floor on my knees and drag all my dignity alongside.

Aslanov

It needed to die, the sight of us. Not the feelings, no, those areundeniable. She looks beautiful in that dress.

Now she’s kneeling at my feet, not in the same way she has before. Not in a playful, entertaining manner. No, in a completely different setting and there is no ounce of funhere. Her slight protest doesn’t add to the situation. But my firecracker seems to somewhat understand the situation. With piercing eyes, she crouches down next to my feet. My hand finds its way towards her head, gently stroking it. For the men at the table a usual gesture, petting their pets,disgusting. The men at the table grin, it sickens me. I want to wrap their insides around their neck and use it as a noose. She flinches under my touch, the sweet soul.

Above a mere whisper, she dares to speak, wishing she hadn’t such a habit of misbehaving.

“I fucking hate you.”

My chest tightens,not now little fighter.Now I will have to take actions that I don’t want to. My mind screams while my gaze doesn’t fill with a single sign of emotion. My fist bangs on the table, she flinches at the sound. Everyone’s conversation dies instantly, eyes on me. I want to cut out every one of their insides and use it as a noose to hang them. I would protect her. Even if the consequences are her hating me. I’ll let them see her submit to me, so they all know who she belongs to. After all, I would not be able to let her go, not anymore now.

Jealousy fills my thoughts. I’d have the urge to kill any other man who comes near her. I pull her by her hair closer in between my legs as I push her head down.

“Ty, malenkaya shlyukha, ya nakazhu tebya tak zhestoko, chto ty pochti uvidish svet.”You little whore, I’m going to punish you so roughly, you’ll nearly see the light.At this moment I’m very happy about the fact that she doesn’t speak or understand Russian. Makes it easier to say these vile words. Everyone witnesses it, but everyone knows better than to stick their nose in anyone else’s woman here.

As the conversation fades away to business the language changes into Russian, and Isabella is completely unaware of what’s happening, I’m pleased to see the attention shift awayfrom her. However, my attention is completely on her. Her body trembles ever so slightly and her head hangs so low, it has never been this low. She’s always had the defiance in her, but it’s extinct.

Grasping me out of my thoughts is my alliance, now standing next to me, taking the empty seat beside me. This is not a good man. His piercing blue eyes meet mine after looking in between my legs ather. I need to do my best to keep my knuckles from turning white.

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