As she continued to lift her head, I saw a tiny round nose and then pink full lips that had dried blood on them. Her cheeks were round, but obviously bruised. I couldn’t see her face properly, it was so covered with dirt and bruises.
She was hugging her arms around herself, her body shaking with silent tremors. The little intruder was obviously frightened. She was a tiny girl and I felt my heart twisting at her fragile state.
Taking a step forward, I saw green eyes peeping up at me under her long lashes. She blinked away tears as she saw me approaching, my gun still pointed at her.
When I was close, I slowly brought the gun down and glared at her menacingly. When she flinched, I felt my resolve slipping.
She took a step back and I growled, “Don’t move.”
She flinched again. My heart was beating fast in my chest. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I moved closer until our chests were almost touching. I felt her tremble against me, and she whimpered in fear. She hugged her body tighter and folded into herself, as if she was trying to hide from me, even in plain sight.
I brought my empty hand up to her face. She winced but didn’t move. Silent tears streamed down her cheek and I touched a drop, thumbing it away. She froze and I felt her suck in a breath.
I froze too. Something was wrong with me.
Before I could stop myself, my hands went to the strands of hair hanging over her face. I slowly moved her hair to the side until her whole face was visible to me. Maybe my heart stuttered for a moment. I didn’t know.
She slowly lifted her gaze until she was staring at me with glassy green eyes, the color of the rain forest.
I swallowed hard, slowly moving my thumb over her soft cheek. When she winced in pain, I let her go, taking several steps back.
A wave of emotion ran through me. First sadness, then tenderness, and finally anger. I decided to hang on to the anger and let it consume me.
There was no place for tenderness in my life. Tenderness made you weak. Any emotion other than anger made you weak.
And I couldn’t be weak. I had thousands of people behind me and I had thousands to lead.
So, I grabbed on to the anger and let it course through me until my body was shaking.
Red hot anger. I glared at her and pointed my gun at her again. Her eyes widened and she let out a cry, her hand coming up to her chest.
She shook her head repeatedly, her mouth opening and closing silently as if she wanted to say something.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you here?” I growled at her, my voice low, but my tone dangerous. It spoke volume and it was obvious the girl understood it.
If she didn’t give me an answer that I was satisfied with, I would shoot her without a second thought.
Chapter 3
Ayla
I stared at the man standing in front of me, my body shaking with indescribable fear. When he pulled me from under the bed, I didn’t notice his face. I was too scared to look at him.
But when he ordered me to look up, I was surprised. He took my breath away. For a minute, I stopped thinking that he was about to shoot me. I stopped thinking that I was supposed to run away.
All I could do was stare into the bluish-steel eyes that reminded me of the midwinter sky.
When he took a step toward me, my heart stuttered. His steps were powerful and hard. He moved confidently. I tried to take a step back, but he stopped me with his gun.
His presence was one of a leader. A dangerous leader. The air around him felt frigid.
As he came to a stop in front of me, our chests almost touching, my body trembled both in fear and in anticipation. I should have been screaming and running, but something about him caused me to remain immobile.
His touch felt electric. My body hummed in response and I no longer felt cold. His warm hand caressed my cheek and I wanted to rub against his palm like a kitten craving attention.
I realized how big he was. Compared to my small size, he was gigantic. My head only came to the middle of his wide, muscled chest. I felt fragile and small next to him.
But for some unknown reason, my body was warming up in his presence. Even though fear coursed through my body, I didn’t mind him being near me.
I hated when Alberto was near me. My skin was always crawling in disgust and fear, but with this strange man, I only felt comfort. Even with his gun pointing at me, I felt oddly safe.
But that changed when his face turned hard and then angry. I jumped in surprise as he took a sudden step back. His whole body tightened and he pointed the gun back at me. My eyes widened and my heart beat faster.
Was it all a game? Did he act like he was softening up to me, just to calm me down so he could shoot me?
Tears fell down my dirty, bruised cheeks.
His eyes were trained on my tears. His gaze followed the drops. When they reached my chin, I saw him smile. His mouth quirked up to the side, but his smile looked dangerously malicious.
Oh God. This man was going to kill me.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you here?” he growled deeply, his voice low but the tone dangerous and angry. I knew that tone.
Alberto used it when he was about to kill someone. He used it on me too, whenever he took me against my will…every single night.
I shivered in terror, my distress likely evident on my face and the way I was trembling. I felt my pulse beating in my ears, blocking out all other sounds except my gasping breath.
I felt myself growing colder. His hard eyes were penetrating mine and I had to lock my knees together to stop myself from taking a step backward. I knew if I moved, he would shoot me.
He took several steps backward, the gun still pointed at me as he waited for my answer. When he reached the couch, he sat down and crossed his right foot over his left knee. The gun was still pointed at my chest.
“I…I am…my…” I stuttered, finding it hard to talk. Alberto and my father had many enemies. What if he was one of them?
“I won’t repeat myself, so you better start talking. You have thirty seconds,” the man said. He was losing patience. It was evident in the way his face twisted angrily with each word.
“Ayla. My name is Ayla,” I said in a rush, my voice raspy.
“Ayla,” he whispered, my name rolling off his tongue as if the word itself had been laced with molasses. His voice was deep and it vibrated throughout my body.
“Ayla,” he said again. I hated to admit it, but I liked how my name sounded when it came from him. I liked how he said it, almost gently.
Get yourself together, Ayla. This man is about to shoot you. Stupid, Ayla. Stupid. Focus.
“What is your last name, Ayla? And why are you here?” he asked, this time slowly as he continued to stare at me.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to figure out how much I should tell him. His gaze never left mine, and when I didn’t answer quickly enough, he sat forward angrily.
“Now, Ayla. You are very lucky that I am being patient. But I won’t ask again.”
I nodded, but he continued.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m sure you’ve heard my name. Alessio Ivanshov,” the man stated, his tone low.