Page 71 of Dangerous Beginnings

Isabella’s breath stutters for a moment, but she doesn’t look away. Her eyes blaze with a mix of fear and defiance, a dangerous combination that only fuels the fire in my veins. My grip tightens on her jaw, fingers digging in just enough to remind her who’s in control. Her lips twitch, daring to curl into a smirk, even with my hold on her.

“I should be scared, right?” she taunts, her voice trembling but still sharp. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to fall in line, cower like the rest of them? Too bad I’m not one of your obedient pets.”

“You don’t know what you’re playing with,” I growl, my voice barely above a whisper, but she feels the menace in every word. “I’ve broken people for less.”

Her pulse pounds against my grip, but still, she doesn’t falter. “Then break me,” she challenges, her eyes flashing with something wild, reckless. “Go ahead. Show everyone what you really are.”

The room seems to close in around us, the tension suffocating, as her words hang between us. My grip tightens for a brief, dangerous second, before I pull back just enough to meet hergaze fully. I can see the flicker of fear behind her defiance, but she refuses to let it show.

I pause, studying her, this woman who continues to defy me at every turn. There’s a part of me that admires her tenacity, her refusal to bow to my will. But there’s another part, a darker part, that aches to see her finally submit, to see that fire in her eyes extinguished by my hand.

This puppet show must end—now.

I call two of my men to come over, and mutter to them:

“Take her to her room.” Without a second of hesitation, Isabella is dragged across the room towards the staircase. Her screams linger in the air as they take her away.

Isabella

As I’m dragged out of the room, my heart hammers in my chest, each beat reverberating through me like a death knell. The iron grip on my arms is relentless, squeezing tighter with every step, and I can already feel the bruises forming beneath their fingers. I cast a desperate glance back at Aslanov, hoping against hope for some sign of understanding, but all Isee in his eyes is cold, unyielding fury. The chill of his gaze cuts through me, seizing my breath and making my defiance feel like a thin veil, easily torn away.

The noise of the room fades as we move down a dimly lit corridor, the light growing scarce and the air thick with the stench of something ominous. The sound of my own ragged breathing fills the void, and with each step, panic rises within me, clawing at my resolve. I try to hold onto the bravado that got me here, the defiance I’ve clung to like a shield, but it feels fragile now like it could shatter with the next breath. This is not where my room is.

As we enter a darker, more secluded part of the house, dread coils tight in my stomach. I don’t know where they’re taking me,but I know it’s somewhere I was never meant to see. My instincts scream at me to fight, to flee, but it’s too late. I’m in too deep, and every reckless decision I made leading up to this moment crashes down on me like a tidal wave of regret. I never should have provoked him, never should have pushed him so far. My fear was buried beneath the anger and the false confidence, but now, it’s all that remains.

The men halt in front of a heavy metal door at the end of the hall, a door that looks like it belongs in a nightmare. With a rough shove, they push me forward, and I stumble into the room beyond, my knees hitting the concrete floor with a sickening thud. Pain shoots through me, but I barely register it over the growing terror that engulfs my mind.

The room is small, suffocatingly so, with nothing but a bare cot in the corner and no windows to let in the light. The walls seem to close in on me, trapping me in a space that feels all too familiar. I recognize this place; it’s a cell, a prison of my own making. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and any remnants of defiance crumble away. I made a mistake—a terrible, irreversible mistake.

Frantic, I scramble to the door, banging on it with all the strength I have left, but it’s futile. There’s no handle, no way out. I’m trapped. The echoes of my fists against the metal door mock me, reminding me of just how powerless I am. The walls of the cell, stark and cold, press down on me, triggering memories I’ve fought so hard to bury. Memories of another time, another cell, when I was stripped of my dignity, my strength, my will to fight.

Panic floods my senses, overwhelming me in a tidal wave of fear. My breaths come in rapid, shallow gasps, each one more painful than the last as my chest tightens, constricting around my lungs like a vise. I clutch at my throat, desperate for air, but it feels like the room is shrinking, pressing in on me, squeezing the life out of me.

The defiance that once burned so brightly within me is now a distant memory, snuffed out by the reality of my situation. I keep dooming myself.

Aslanov

Without a moment’s hesitation, after she is taken out of the room, I walk back to my seat, a primal rage burning within me, the air crackling with tension as I reach for the knife tucked into the waistband of my pants. My men behind me see what my plan is and back me up by holding the other men back.

Recklessness is not my style. It would be beneath me to show my hand so easily, especially over a woman. My reputation, carefully built over years of calculated moves and ruthless decisions, cannot afford the stain of such an impulsive reaction. No one can know she invades my emotions in certain ways.

Still, I need to make an example of this situation—remind everyone of who I am, and what happens when my authority is questioned. My gaze sweeps over the room, cold and cutting, before settling on the man who dared to believe he could buy what belonged to me.

My gaze meets his, a cold and calculating man who had sought to buy Isabella as if she were nothing more than a commodity. He’s going to the chambers. I advance upon him with a predatory gleam in my eye. He cowers before me, his bravado shatters in the face of my unwavering dominance. He has struck the wrong man.

With a swift motion, I seize him by the collar, dragging him to his feet as I press the cold steel of the knife against his throat. His eyes bulge with terror as he whimpers for mercy, but I show him none.

“You thought you could buy her like some cheap trinket,” I snarl, my voice low and menacing. “But she’s not for sale, not to you or anyone else. She’sfuckingmine.” I punch him in theface, multiple times. Blood gushes from his nose. “I’ll do as I see fit with her, however, that is none of your fucking concern. Disrespecting me will cost you your life.”

I command my men to drag him into the chambers outside. I’m going to have fun with him, hanging him on my meat hook. With that, he is dragged away, his men not moving an inch. After all, I am the most powerful man in Russia. I glance at the men staring at me, their gazes finding other places. “Prodolzhayte zanimatsya s businesom!”Move on with business.I shout it at them as I take a seat again. Immediately the conversations fill the room again. I have unleashed war.Over a woman.

Chapter 43

Lovers?

Aslanov

As the meeting continues, I try to maintain an air of authority and control, despite the turmoil raging inside me. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Isabella, locked away in that cold, dark cell, but I dare not let my emotions show. Instead, I focus on the matters at hand, barking orders and making decisions with efficiency.

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