Page 77 of Gamble with Me
"Malin," I replied without thinking, but in a split second, his expression changed, and a wide, cheerful smile almost paralyzed me.
"Are you sure, darling?" he chirped, his eyes gleaming like beautiful dark gems.
I stared at him, perplexed and unsure of what I was witnessing. A couple of minutes ago, I glanced at Zyon, who turned into Malin and now Dorian. What the hell?
"What is going on, Valeria?" he asked, his expression darkening. "Don't you know who I am?"
My head spun from the game he was forcing me to play. He caught me in a swirl of thoughts and doubts. The scenario repeated a few times when he confused me to the point I wanted to punch him in that gorgeous face.
Whenever I thought I had him, he slipped into the face of another one of his brothers. He changed his voice, expressions, and gestures easily, baffling me to the point I hid my eyes behind my palms and stopped looking at him.
“Go to Zyon, Valeria.” His merciful voice reached my ears, sounding almost gentle. "He'll sign the papers."
I looked at him from between my fingers, shaking my head.
"Do you all have this skill?" I asked, letting my arms fall beside my body.
"When we were kids, we found it entertaining to baffle people," he clarified with a tiny smile. "Only our mother can distinguish us, no matter what we do. We call it her secret superpower."
"It's sick," I breathed, gathering the papers with trembling fingers. I still had no clue who sat before me.
"It's useful," he said in a lecturing tone, narrowing his eyes at me. "In this world, you must use everything possible to gain advantage over your enemies."
The hidden meaning behind his words smashed me like a punch in the face. They lived in a dangerous world where scheming and killing were on a daily basis. They were like this because the situations they found themselves in demanded this type of behavior. I shouldn't be surprised they could imitate each other like professional actors.
"Where is Zyon?" I asked, ready to leave the office after another unforgettable experience. This place was the epitome of the weirdest adventures—first, my lame attempt to blackmail Zyon, and now this. I really didn't want to find out what the third one would look like.
"Take the elevator, use code 4267, and it will take you to the gym," was the response. I swiftly turned on my heels and disappeared.
Standing in the modern elevator, I checked myself in the mirror. My face was pale, and my eyes showed fear and confusion. I had no idea why I reacted that way, but the meeting with probably Malin Zhumagulov got under my skin and upset me.
How often did they change places? How many times had they fooled me?
The door opened into another dark hall. I walked out, frowning at the long corridor dimly lit by the pointed lights. The sounds of grunts, exhales, and muffled groans reached my ears, making me wary. I didn't want to interrupt a torturing session led by my boss. He was surely crazy enough to hold someone down here to interrogate.
Rolling my eyes at my foolish thinking, I came to the only glass door at the end of the corridor. I hesitated for a second, unsure if it was a good idea to listen. He could be doing something illegal that I didn't need to see.
However, my curiosity was stronger than my self-preservation instinct, and I stepped closer to the door. Pushing the knob down, I opened it slowly. My heart thundered in my chest, expecting something shocking, but I was welcomed by the room full of lockers, benches, and the smell of sweat.
Exhaling heavily, I felt the weight lifting from my shoulders when my mind acknowledged that Malin hadn't lied. This really was a gym, and the sounds I heard were, at some point, torturous, but they were because people worked out, not because they were beaten.
Yet, the sight that rose before me when I entered the spacious place full of equipment took me completely by surprise. I expected Zyon to run on the treadmill, punch the bag, or lift some weight. Instead, he was in the ring, dressed only in black shorts, sweaty and bloody, knocking his opponent to the ground.
The cheers erupted around me, making me realize that at least twenty men were watching the match. Some were dressed in suits, looking like they had just stopped by during their break, while others interrupted their training to enjoy the show.
Anyway, they were all clapping and whistling for the boss beating the guy who lay face down, motionless on the floor in the ring. Two men came, took him by his arms, and dragged him away while Zyon wiped the blood from his mouth and chest. The sinister, hungry smile I knew so well turned his face into a devious grimace.
But instead of making me scared or disgusted, I was enchanted. My eyes were glued to his massive, ripped body beautified by many tattoos. Sweat dripped down his chest, makinga trail I wanted to take with my tongue. My mind quickly submerged into the fantasy of tracing his muscles with my fingers and kissing and licking his smooth skin while he marked me with the blood of his opponent.
My eyes widened at the idea that popped out of nowhere in my brain, and embarrassment washed over me when my pussy clenched with excitement. This was a completely new feeling for me, and I was shocked to the core by my own imagination.
Yet I didn't have time to muse about this recent discovery because the reason for my ludicrous thinking had just noticed me. Zyon's dark eyes were set on me, watching me like a delicious dessert he had to taste, and his face lit up.
"Mrs. Kellerman." He jumped from the ring, directing the attention of his men to me. I pressed the files against my chest, watching him as if hypnotized as he approached me. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
He stopped before me, roaming my face with his black eyes that gleamed with happiness.
Could he truly be happy to see me?
