Page 84 of Dangerous Beginnings

I gasp for air as I sit up straight. Sweat on my forehead, hitched breath. The room is dimly lit now, the light in the corner turned on and Aslanov’s concerned gaze comes into view.

“You’re okay,” he assures me. “You’re safe,” he states while pressing my head in his chest. “Breathe, Isabella.” After a few minutes, my breathing slows down, and tears begin to spill from my eyes. The same nightmare, every night. The same terror.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles under his breath absentmindedly as he slowly rocks me back and forth in his arms. The sheets cover me like a warm blanket.

Aslanov

Once she calms down and starts to lightly snore, I tucked her back in. I cover her in the sheets and leave the light on. But just as I turn on my heels to leave, her voice stops me.

“Can—can you stay with me?”

I turn around, closing the door. She’s holding the pillow and bloodshot eyes meet mine. She looks exhausted and drained. I need to compose myself, anger filling my veins.He’sgoing to meet a malevolent fate. Starvation and torture aren’t enough. I have cases to finish tonight and yet my feet move away from the door.

Without thinking, I bend down and gently scoop her up into my arms. She feels so light, and fragile—if I hold her too tight, she might break. I pull her against me, resting my chin on the top of her head, feeling her small body trembling slightly in my arms.

I wrap myself around her, tightening my hold, as if I could somehow protect her from the nightmares that haunt her. She presses her face into my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt. Ican feel her breath, still uneven, warm against my skin. Slowly, I begin to rock her back and forth, as if it will soothe her into forgetting the darkness she’s running from. I will soothe into mine instead.

My thumb grazes her cheek, tracing the softness of her skin. She stares at my chest, eyes half-lidded, lost somewhere between exhaustion and the remnants of fear. My hand moves to her lips, brushing gently over them, feeling her breath hitch as I touch her.

As I hold her, rocking her gently, she lifts her head from my chest and looks up at me. Her wide eyes, still glazed with sleep, meet mine, and for a moment, everything stills. The air between us shifts, thickening with an unspoken tension. Her gaze lingers, searching my face, perhaps for answers or maybe for something deeper. I don’t look away.

Her eyes grow tired, and her breathing slows down.

“Thank you.” Her whisper is ever so soft, but I heard her—loud and clear. I’m not her savior, she is mine.

I press her against my chest, placing my lips on her forehead—kissing the skin ever so gently. She falls asleep, her trust placed in me, and the weight of it settles in my chest. My fingers trace her skin, gently but possessively.

“Sleep, solnyshko,” my thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ll keep the darkness away.”

Chapter 47

Command Me

Isabella

Sunlight shines in my face as I groan, rubbing my hands over my face I slowly open my eyes. I look over to the alarm clock on the nightstand: 7:30 a.m. I groan, that’s way too early. But sadly, once I’m awake in the morning, there is no sleeping pill that could put me back to sleep. When I’m up, I’m up.

Aslanov’s cologne lingers in the room, the door is left open. I throw the sheets off and put pajama socks on since the floor is always so cold here.

Getting into the bathroom I fix my hair and brush my teeth before heading out.

I make my way over to the still-dark hallway and open the curtains, letting some sunlight into this dark hole. I stop when I hear clicking sounds coming from Aslanov’s room, somewhere further down the hallway. He’s still here.

Quietly, I pad down the hallway, drawn by the subtle sounds emanating from his room. As I reach the doorframe, I pause, my curiosity piqued. With a cautious glance around, I lean in and peek through the crack, taking in the scene before me.

There he stands, bathed in the soft light of the bathroom, his silhouette outlined against the mirror. Aslanov is buttoning up his blouse, the fabric whispering as it falls into place. His wet hair glistens under the gentle illumination, evidence of a recent shower. The scent of his cologne hangs in the air, a subtle yet intoxicating aroma that fills the room.

I find myself captivated by the sight, unable to tear my gaze away. There’s something mesmerizing about him, the way hecarries himself with an effortless grace. And when his eyes meet mine in the reflection, a spark of recognition ignites between us, drawing me in even closer.

His expression holds a mixture of surprise and warmth, as if he’s caught off guard by my presence yet welcomes it all the same.

But then reality comes crashing back, and I realize I’ve been caught red-handed. With a sheepish smile, I straighten up and meet his gaze, unable to suppress the blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Morning,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but the warmth in my tone speaks volumes. I’m grateful for his stay yesterday, but honestly don’t feel like talking about it.

Without a word, he finishes buttoning up his blouse and turns to face me fully, the corners of his lips quivering in a faint smile. His presence exudes a quiet strength, a reassuring presence that eases the lingering tension in the air.

“Good morning, Isabella,” he says, his voice smooth and velvety, sending a shiver down my spine. He slips a couple of rings around his tattooed fingers before looking at me again. He moves through the bathroom to grab something else. “Give me that.” He orders as he puts on his cuff links, pointing at the tie across the chair in his bedroom. My eyes move to the chair, and before my mind processes his order my body is already moving. His bed is untouched, because he was with me last night, watching me sleep. I wonder if he got any sleep at all. On the chair hangs a lone black tie, on the table next to it other items that remind me of the man he is. Not paying too much attention to them, I reach for the tie. I grab it and throw it at him, and he stares at me through the mirror as he catches it.

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