Page 75 of Dangerous Beginnings

“At first it felt good to be on the other end—to warm the numbness—instead of being numb for so long. I enjoyed playing with you. You were such an easy prey.”

His words sting as he continues, “But not long after I recognized myself in you, and whenever you would hurt, I would hurt. I guess your trauma was interfering with mine, I didn’t want to play with you anymore. I wanted to care for you. But I think I’ve forgotten how that is supposed to be done.”

Hot tears stain my skin. Realizing it has been the truth. And realizing that I know so little about this man in front of me. I only know of the evil, the terrors. Nothing personal. Nothing that shaped him. Nothing as to why he became the villain in this story. Had he been feeling something different than he led on? Had hecared?I had been craving the attention he had been giving me. The fear made me feel something, and that was better than nothing.

Because being given the wrong attention and punishments is better than beingneglected. A hot tear rolls down from my cheek to my jawline, falling onto the fabric of my dress.

The truth hurts, and even though I knew it deep down and was aware of it, hearing it out loud burns my bones to ashes.

So does the next question. I swallow poison down as the words that tumble out next make my heart skip a beat.

“Was yourcarereal? The kiss…” I pause, “…was it real?” I whisper. Barely able to force the sentence out of my throat.

I’m met with silence from him, but none in my head. Blood rushing back and forth making my ears drum.

“Yes.”

Chapter 44

The Contract

Aslanov

“Yes,” I reply firmly, trying to get her out of her head, my voice carrying a weight of conviction. The word hangs in the air between us, steady in its truth. I meet Isabella’s gaze with unwavering certainty, determined to convey the sincerity behind my words.

Her breath catches in her throat, uncertainty flickering in her eyes as she searches mine for any hint of deception. But there’s none to be found. I mean every word I say, and I want her to know it.

“I can’t ignore this shit between us anymore,” I assert, my tone leaving no room for doubt. She hesitates, her gaze flickering between mine as she grapples with the weight of my words. And then, slowly, tentatively, she nods.

“Do you believe any of what I’ve told you?” My voice cuts through the silence as she doesn’t say a word. I can see her lip tremble and know enough from that. She doesn’t trust me and doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m manipulating her, again. And I understand, I understand she is hesitant. I understand her distrust. After a long pause and silence almost consuming us, I speak again.

“I’ll write you a contract.” My chest tightens with the thought of the option I’m offering her. “It’s in my office.” I shove a card to her—a keycard that locks and opens the cell. “Write on it what you want to imply, and I’ll sign it.”

Her voice barely above a whisper, “What do you mean?”

Her tiny hands reach out, slowly, to the keycard. She stares atthe card whilst it’s shown in her eyes, she is hesitant.

“It’s in the middle drawer. It’s a contract for a month long. You can write in it what you’d like to imply, what you’d like to feel more at ease, safer, during that month’s time.”

She clutches the card as I continue. “Give me a month to open up. One month to change your mind about me. If you wish to leave after that month,” I pause, my chest filling with poison as I speak the words, “you can. I’ll personally bring you to the plane. You’ll never see me again and I’ll never interfere with your life again. We’ll go back to strangers, and you’ll move on, forget me.”

She stares around and at the door, clutching the card so tightly her knuckles turn white. My chest tightens at her silence and I’m wondering if she will even give me any chance.

“What if I decline your offer?”

Isabella

Staring at Aslanov, I feel like a shell. Exposed and vulnerable. We both came from hurt, and in some ways that made us bond.

Yet there is nothing to my mind that comes when I think of another version of Aslanov. There only exists a bad, rough, dominant, and dangerous man so far. Someone who has been playing me like a violin. Who has been raising fear in me like the tides, andarousal?I push that thought away.

“You can’t pretend your indifference to your feelings towardsme.” His voice is like a drug, and I don’t think he has ever spoken this much to me. It’s addictive. I could get used to the sound of his voice.

He’s trying and my brain cannot wrap itself around it. But he’s right. The fear has inflicted arousal, and like he’s said he’s been feeding me for months. He’s been lingering in my mind for months. I’ve provoked him myself, knew the consequences, and yet didn’t care.

But does that mean that I should give him that chance? Wasn’tit just the thought of the danger, the thought of him, rather than the real deal?

I mean, look at this situation. The situation tonight and before. He’s killed people in front of me. I have every right to be terrified of this man. To leave him, to run. But I chose this partly myself, I had come willingly. I decided to come with him, to snitch on my own life. But why? Didn’t I just do that out of fear? Out of desperation? Out of loneliness?

---