Page 76 of Dangerous Beginnings

I’m sure he can see my wandering mind, and my doubt when he speaks up again.

“If you decline my offer,” he responds, his voice steady despite the turmoil within, “then I’ll respect your decision. I won’t force you into anything you’re not comfortable with anymore. You’ll be free to go, and I won’t stand in your way. You’ll never hear from me again, and I’ll ensure you’re safely taken wherever you want to go.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing, “I understand if you don’t want to give me a chance, especially considering everything. Take your time to think it over. Whatever you decide,I’ll respect it.”

This side of him feels like I’m not here like I’m dreaming. What could a month possibly offer me, us? But what do I have to lose? It’s not like I have someone waiting for me back in New York, and no job either.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I state before my mind wanders more. I need time and space. I push myself off the ground and make my way over to the door. It opens with a click once the keycard reaches its scanner. I push the heavy door open. It feels weird, being able to get out of a cell myself.

My gaze turns to him, he’s staring at the ground, and I think he’s beyond far away from hope. He looks defeated. He doesn’t bother to even stare at me. It’s like I’m staring at a stranger, just another man with the same physique.

I breathe in a deep gallon of air as I step out of the cell, the door closes itself with a loud bang behind me. It feels surreal leaving him in there, and it gives me flashbacks to the time in prison. A time when I had been frightened of him. He had been playing with me till the point he saved me.

Could he ever be someone different than the man I know? He’s been like this for nearly ten years. Why me?

While so many questions and doubts fill me, I make my way up to his office. He had been knowing about my run in here, cameras. God knows where else he has them. I find myself pulling all the drawers open, and eventually, my eyes land on a black file. It’s a contract, with theBratva markinked on it. These contracts are used for business in extreme cases, they never get broken. And exactly like he had told me there was the agreement he had offered me.

A month.

Staring at the contract I realize he has been making this in advance. It’s been here for a while. He’s been thinking about this, that something would happen.

After hours of agonizing over my decision, I finally put pen to paper and wrote down my terms and conditions on the contract. What do I have to lose? Giving Aslanov a chance might just be the push I need to break free from the fear that’s held me captive for so long.

I don’t expect something to come from this. I can at least turn the fear around into something positive. Something that will help me to live a life without fear.

Frankly, he terrifies me.

And there is a part of me that doesn’t believe the part where he will just let me go and respect my decision. I’m afraid to provoke him.

With a deep breath, I make my way back to the cell, the contract clutched tightly in my hand. It’s midnight now, sleeppulling me in slowly. Walking through the empty house fills my heart with unease. I wait before the steel door. I pull out the card, and the green light turns on. As I push open the door, I’m met with the sight of Aslanov still sitting in the same spot, his gaze fixed on the ground.

But when he sees the contract in my hand, his eyes light up ever so slightly, a flicker of hope dancing in their depths. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to give me pause.

“For what reason should I care enough to give you this chance?” My voice comes out hoarse as I inquire, laced with skepticism as I scrutinize his every move. Aslanov’s gaze meets mine.

“None.”

At least he’s honest. I rub my eyes; sleep is coming to me. I’m exhausted, from everything. “Then why should I give it to you?”

He stills. He doesn’t know the answer. The answer is pure egocentric, he wants it. But he hasn’t been deserving of it.

“Beg.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I caught him off guard. “Pardon me?”

“You heard it.” My lips do not twitch and I’m not joking. “Beg.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips.

Aslanov

A slow, wicked smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I watch her. This little shit is mimicking me. She’s learning quickly, testing her boundaries, trying to assert herself in a game she doesn’t fully understand.

“You have no good reason,” she says, her voice laced with exhaustion and something sharper. “So, if you want it so badly, you can beg.”

I can see the weariness in her eyes, the strain of the situation bearing down on her like a heavyweight. But there’s also thatspark, that stubborn defiance that both infuriates and fascinates me. She’s not broken yet, not by a long shot. And that only makes me want to break her even more.

“Beg?” I echo, my voice low, disbelieving. The very idea of begging grates against every fiber of my being. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, and the thought of doing so now, for her, feels like an affront to my pride. Yet, I know that if I want any chance of pulling her back into my grasp, I may have to do the unthinkable.

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