Page 90 of Dangerous Beginnings

My eyelids are turning heavy. The thunder outside doesn’t bother me as much anymore and I’m scared he’s the reason for that. I’m scared he is the reason I feel safe.

Aslanov

As she finally drifts into sleep, I feel a profound sense of relief. Her breathing has evened out, the frantic hitches replaced by a steady, rhythmic rise and fall. The storm outside rages on, but inside this cocoon of warmth and calm, it feels distant, irrelevant.

Her head rests against my chest, the gentle rise and fall of her breath soothing my own racing heart. The grip of her fingers on my chest has loosened, her body now relaxed and slack in my arms. I can feel the weight of her trust, a precious thing, pressing against me as she lets go of the tension that had seized her.

As I watch her breathe, her body pressed close to mine, I’m acutely aware of the effect my presence has on her. It’s in the subtle relaxation of her muscles, the slight parting of her lips, the serene expression that smooths over her features. It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, one where the lines betweenprotector and destroyer blur, where the very thing that will soothe her also threatens to ensnare her.

In his world, affection and control often intertwine, and I’m no stranger to this dance. Yet, with Isabella, it feels different. I’m not just looking to dominate or possess; I find myself wanting to be the sanctuary she seeks, the Devil whose embrace she craves. The man who owns her. Everything about her belongs to me; her mind, body, soul, tears, pain, laughter, and fear.

I envision a future where she doesn’t just tolerate my darkness but embraces it. At this point it’s not just caring for her, it’s anobsession.

The power exchange between us, the total control over her, it’s not just about domination—it’s about trust, the trust she places in me by giving herself over, and the responsibility that comes with it. It’s an intoxicating mix of power and protectiveness that drives me.

Yet, amidst dark desires, there’s an undercurrent of something softer, a need to protect her, to be the one she turns to, not out of fear, but out of a deep, unshakeable trust. Of love. One full day away from her and I miss her red wavy hair and flowery scent. I run my knuckle down her cheek.

I make a silent vow to myself. I will teach her, mold her, and shape her into my perfect counterpart, my woman in the shadows. But I will also shield her, cherish her, and perhaps, in my twisted way,loveher. She won’t be able to breathe without asking me first. And even that, I’ll take away from her when I see fit.

27 more days.

Chapter 50

A Date with the Devil

Isabella

A cold breeze washes over my face, causing me to groan. I rub the sleep out of my eyes only to find out I’m still in his bed. The sheets are warm and the window next to me is slightly open, causing me to sink deeper into the blankets. The spot next to me is empty, he’s gone. However, his cologne remains on the sheets.

I stretch out and yawn, looking over to the nightstand I see the time; 2 p.m. I slightly widen my eyes, have I slept that long? I didn’t even notice him leaving.

Today it is shit weather, rain, and dark clouds. Not feeling the vibes of exploring my surroundings today, so it’s not the worst thing ever that I have woken up this late.

I sit up on the bed and wrap the black sheets around me as I look around, it feels illegal to be in here alone. I reach out for my phone and immediately my heart pulses, it’s a text message from Aslanov.

I will pick you up at 7 p.m. tonight. A dress and fitting heels are in your closet, wear them.

My heart races as my fingers type a response.

Okay, see you at 7.

How does he know my size? That’s the first question that pops up in my head as I make my way over to my closet. And what are we going to do?

Once before the closet, I open it, and my eyes widen at the sight in front of me. There is a red long dress, silky and withan open back. I run the material through my fingers, it feels luxurious. Besides the dress, a pair of black heels are placed in a box. I pick them up and I gasp when I see the bottom, they are red. They’re fucking Louboutin’s. One of the most expensive brands to get heels from—I’ve only ever imagined owning a pair. The realization leaves me breathless and wondering how he’s able to afford that. Black money. This is far beyond my world.

After discovering the items, I try to distract myself for the rest of the day until 6 p.m. That’s when I started to get ready. My nerves have refused to settle all day, and I don’t need any blush, I’ve been red from stress.

As evening approaches, I stand before the mirror in my room, my hands trembling slightly as I apply makeup with meticulous care. The rich hues accentuate my features, adding a touch of allure to my reflection. Red lipstick to finish it off. With deft fingers, I curl my hair into cascading waves, the strands framing my face like a halo of silk. As I gaze at my reflection, a sense of transformation washes over me. The red dress hugs my curves in all the right places, its vibrant color igniting a fire within me. The Louboutin heels elevate my stature, imbuing my steps with newfound confidence and grace. I feel tall. I blurt out a laugh, this can’t be real. I feel beautiful. I want him to find me just the same. And just when I’m drifting off in thoughts, I hear the gates open.

As I make my way down the hallway, my heart flutters nervously in my chest. The sound of his car pulling up outside echoes through the foyer, signaling his arrival. With each step I take, the anticipation builds, my pulse quickening with every beat.

As I reach the bottom of the staircase, I see him waiting by the door, his presence commanding the room. He stands tall and imposing, dressed impeccably in his usual all-black attire. His dark suit clings to his frame, accentuating the powerful lines ofhis physique. His hair is slicked back, and his sharp features are framed by an array of jewelry that glimmers in the soft light. He’s so fucking evilly handsome.

His gaze locks onto me, intense and penetrating, as I approach. I feel a shiver run down my spine under the weight of his scrutiny. He looks like the devil himself, yet there’s an undeniable magnetism to his presence that draws me in despite my nerves.

As I stand almost before him, I realize that the height difference is not as pronounced with the heels on. I’m still a head shorter, but I no longer feel quite so small in his presence. Yet, despite this newfound confidence, a shy uncertainty lingers in my demeanor as my gaze meets his gaze.

I feel my cheeks flutter and darken with blood. So does the rash that’s spreading onto my neck. “You look beautiful, Miss Brown.” And there it is, the final comment to spread the entire rash over my body burning me from the inside. A shy smile covers my lips while I mumble a thank you.

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